


Ludic

by moonside



Series: Ludic-verse [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Awkward first time sex, Barebacking, Breakups, College AU, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Daddy Issues, Depression, Drug Use, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Promptis - Freeform, and by slow burn i mean REALLY slow burn, background Lunyx, low-key Ignis/Aranea now i guess, past mentions of Gladio/Ignis, seriously guys this gets rough, slow-burn romance, troll dad regis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 00:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 183,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: Noctis and Prompto make a virginity pact. Things get complicated though, because feelings are hard, and adding sex to the mix is never a good thing. Especially when you're confused, young, and trying to learn how this "growing up" thing works.





	1. prologue - how our boys get into this mess

It’s not at all Noct’s fault when this comes up. They’re drinking. Noct’s dad is a pretty rich, important dude. It’s mildly intimidating to some people, but Prompto’s never cared about that, and it’s probably why they’re such good friends. Most people look at Noct and they see dollar signs, a chance to worm in and make some valuable business connections. Nobody really wants to get to know Noct. So, that’s why it’s largely just him and his best friend Prompto, most days. He’s okay with that.

 

They met their freshman year of high school. Well. ‘Met.’ They’ve gone to school together for years. Noct remembers Prompto from elementary school. But Noct was a sickly kid when he was younger. His mom died when he was really little, and his dad tells him she was always a bit frail, kinda delicate. Apparently Noct’s got her genes, because he was in the hospital more often than not when he was little. And even though he’s better now, for the most part, he still sleeps a lot, still sometimes has phantom pains from a spinal surgery he needed when he was a kid.

 

He and Prompto didn’t start hanging out till high school though. They’ve been fast best friends ever since. It’s been almost three years since then, and… well, Noct can’t remember life without Prompto. They’ve just had a really good summer, a hot one that involved lots of video games, and it’s the first week of September. They’re starting their senior year of high school next week, and fall is just beginning to sweep over the city.

 

This particular day, his dad is holding some stupid fancy banquet party thing. Noct had been forced to go, but bless his fucking mentor and good friend Ignis for helping him sneak out. Fancy parties weren’t Noct’s thing, really. More than just feeling out of place, they triggered something in him, a particular anxiety that would often spiral into full-blown panic attacks if he didn’t find opportune moments to escape. Ignis though, he’s always had his back. He’d slipped Noct out the back with the promise that he’d tell his dad he wasn’t feeling well. Not entirely a lie. And, well, maybe Noct had grabbed a bottle of something nice and fancy off a serving tray on his way out. Not entirely his fault. He’s a teenage boy, after all.

 

So now, they find themselves back at Noct’s place. Prompto’s place is small and cramped, so they’re usually at Noct’s anyway. He shares the place with his dad, but his father sleeps at the suite in his office half the time. And well, he’ll be out at that stupid business event most of the night anyway. Noctis texted Prompto on his way out, told him he’d procured ‘the good stuff’, and they’re watching a really shitty horror flick with a box of delivery pizza that’s more grease than anything else, passing the long-necked bottle of overpriced wine back and forth. The shit is dry and bitter, and even though Noct’s had enough fancy alcohol to develop a decent taste for it, he’s sure as hell not appreciating it as it was intended, more downing it in gulps before passing the bottle over to Prompto. For his part, Prompto’s drinking solely for the sake of getting drunk, because he definitely hasn’t had enough quality wine in him to appreciate it. He thinks the shit is disgusting, and he doesn’t bother to hide the grimace that follows every sip. It makes Noct smile.

 

So this is how it happens. This is how they get on this fucking ridiculous tangent.

 

“I swear,” Prompto is saying dramatically. He’s sitting on the floor, head tipped back against the couch cushion, backwards-staring up at Noct, who’s seated on the couch above him. Prompto’s got his legs drawn up, arms draped down over, bottle of wine clutched loosely in the fingers of one hand. “Dude. I fuckin’ swear. I’m never gonna get laid.”

 

They’re teenage boys, so the shift in conversation comes as no surprise to Noctis. Even though Noct doesn’t actually have any legitimate interest in any girls, he’s got a healthy sex drive, a healthy appetite, and that natural curiosity to relieve some tensions. And he does have Luna, a good childhood friend from when he was little (they met in the children’s hospital) and really, she’s the girl Noct is closest to. His dad approves of her too, which is important. Even though she’s off in Tenebrae, living her life, and they mostly just exchange letters at this point, and text back and forth. Noct lets most of his fantasies drift in her direction, though. Maybe because she’s unobtainable, though he doesn’t admit that to himself.

 

“You say that every time,” Noctis is quick to point out. He lifts a foot, nudges it playfully at Prompto’s shoulder, gives him a gentle shove. Really, this was right along the lines of their usual drunk talk. Prompto’s got a crush on like, every girl in the school. Unfortunately, he’s picked a pretty bad dude to be best friends with. Noct isn’t exactly social. He’s got the social skills of what, a rock maybe? A pretty rock, but a rock nonetheless. It doesn’t mean Noctis hasn’t tried, for his best friend’s behalf. He’s talked to girls for Prompto, tried to offer himself up as wing man.

 

Except, the girls are always more interested in Noctis, because he’s got the wealth and connections and social status. So it kinda backfires, and leaves Prompto flailing helplessly in the background. And Noct, really, doesn’t know what the fuck to do with a girl anyway. For all his thoughts about getting laid, his vague fantasies about the only girl he’s ever befriended, Luna’s really far away. And he doesn’t want it to be a casual fuck with some girl he doesn’t care about. He wants what? A _girlfriend?_ Maybe. It’s complicated. It’s dumb.

 

“Yeah well,” Prompto grumps, takes another swig of the wine, another wince, and passes the bottle up over his shoulder. Their fingers brush as Noct takes the bottle, and there’s maybe an imagined moment of hesitance. “Nothing changes, does it? Every time we drink. Still a virgin. We’re graduating high school in the spring and dude, if we go to _college_ like this? It’s over. Game over.”

 

Noct rolls his eyes. Prompto’s so goddamn overdramatic. He tips the bottle back – they’re getting low now, they’ve almost drained it entirely – and goes in for another drink. “Who cares if we’re virgins in college?”

 

“Who cares!?” Okay, maybe not the right thing to say to a slightly drunk, easily excitable Prompto. His best friend’s turning around now, hands bracing on the couch cushions as he pulls himself to his knees, gets in to get a good look at Noct. Prompto always looks so ridiculous when he’s drunk, and it draws an easy smile out of Noctis. His eyes widen, his cheeks flush up, and somehow the contrast of red skin makes the light smattering of freckles under his eyes stand out even more. Noct shakes his head, and holy shit, the alcohol must be finally hitting him, because there’s a little rush of heat through him, straight to his chest.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto says, very, very seriously. He scoots a little closer, till he’s half leaning over the couch, a hand braced on Noct’s knee. “ _Noctis._ ” Again, with saying Noct’s name, far too seriously.

 

“Prompto,” Noct replies, and there’s drunken amusement there that Noct can’t quite hold back.

  
“Do you know what happens to guys who go to college as virgins?” Prompto still sounds so fucking serious that Noct can’t bring himself to burst into the laughter he wants to. Because it’s absurd, really. Who cares if they’re inexperienced? Did it really matter? And it’s all such a hypothetical thing anyway. Noct can’t think of any girls he actually wants to sleep with (weird Luna thoughts aside). He can’t picture how any of it will go. But Prompto apparently can, and so Noct decides to feign that he cares, for his friend’s sake, at least.

 

“They have the exact same experience as every other dude?” Noct tips his head. He takes another drink of the wine, and he drains the bottle empty. Fuck. Should’ve grabbed another one. Prompto’s eyes on him are vivid and bright.

 

“No!” Prompto groans dramatically, and he throws himself back down, landing on the floor in a pathetic heap of drunken best friend. Noct can’t hold back the smile, because Prompto just looks so pathetic, outright rolling around down there, face pressed to the floor. “Dude. Girls _know_ this shit. They’re like, psychic or something. No college girl wants to be with a _virgin.”_

 

“Girls don’t care about that, Prompto,” Noct tries to reassure, but fuck – he is definitely too drunk to be having this conversation. Because Prompto seems so convinced of that, and it makes Noct wonder if just maybe there is some goddamn truth to it. Maybe Prompto has a point. Maybe being inexperienced really is that bad of a thing. After all, Noct isn’t even a good kisser, and he definitely doesn’t know how to touch a girl. It doesn’t seem that complicated, and he’s seen a fair amount of porn. But there is definitely a bridge between concept and reality. And there is always the fact that nobody has ever touched _him._ Noctis is pretty sure you have to last more than thirty seconds to have proper sex, after all.

  
Fuck. He hadn’t intended to get worried about this shit. And here he is.

 

“Tell you what,” and really, Noct is way _way_ drunker than he’d given himself initial credit for, apparently. He leans down, a little conspiratorial smile on his face. Prompto must sense it, because he lifts his head from the floor, catches Noct’s eyes under messy bangs. “If we’re still virgins, before we go to college, we’ll just fuck each other.”

 

 _‘What?”_ Prompto’s eyes go wide.

 

Noctis shrugs. Maybe it was a bad suggestion, but he’s drunk, and he doesn’t really care. It seems to make sense, at least in the moment. And even though Prompto looks surprised, he doesn’t necessarily look _upset_ about it. “You heard me. We’ll just mess around and take care of it ourselves. If you care so much. We’re friends, right?”

 

“I,” Prompto’s eyes narrow, and it looks like he’s trying to think about it, very carefully, very seriously. Which is probably quite difficult, given that they’re drunk. Finally, Prompto shrugs, and there’s an easy little smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. Okay,” and a pause, and then another pathetic little groan follows. “But dude, I swear, I can’t go another _year_ being a virgin. I’ll explode.”

 

And that’s really, how they end up agreeing to this nonsense. It’s only natural, right? Only something that two really close best friends would do, a real solid favor. Nothing more. Still, Noct thinks there might be something here, something he doesn’t wanna think about anymore, so he pushes it aside.


	2. This is Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis arranges his face in the most neutral expression he can manage, gently pries Prompto’s head up out of his shoulder so they’re looking at each other. “You wanna mess around some then?”

 

Of course, it doesn’t help their cause that the two best friends are inseparable. There’s not a single girl in their senior year of high school who attracts Noct’s eye. More than a few try, but Noct is way too happy trolling the local hole-in-the-wall arcade with his best friend. He’s happy downing shitty fast food, skirting his duties and cutting class to go watch matinees at the dollar theatre. All things considered, it’s a good year. Noct’s dad even pays for the two of them to go on a beach trip over spring break. And even though he makes Ignis chaperone, Noct’s mentor more or less lets them get away with whatever they want. As stern-faced as he can be, Noct kinda has him wrapped around his finger, after all.

 

Despite the good year, entirely consumed with their friendship life, Prompto’s still trying, and, according to the embellished stories he tells Noct, he _almost_ gets laid a few times. He even goes out on a couple of dates with the same girl, before shrugging and grumbling about it being ‘not meant to be’, whatever that means. Noct doesn’t admit to Prompto that he’s kinda glad he doesn’t get a girlfriend out of it, because it’ll eat up some of their time together.

 

But before they know it, they’re graduating high school. It’s a nice, mild summer, and college is looming ahead. They’re both going to the same school, the local university on the other side of Insomnia, and Noct’s pretty excited because his dad’s rented him an apartment, on the condition that Noctis keep his grades up. Ignis, is working on his doctorate (or some fancy degree of some sort, anyway) now, so Noct has a feeling he’ll be kept under a watchful eye and have no choice in that matter, anyway. Really, there’s a strange thirst for Noctis to prove himself, anyway. He’s got an easy future ahead of himself, his dad makes enough money for Noct to live several luxurious lives without lifting a finger, if he wanted. But he wants to _earn_ it. It’s a strange feeling, because Noct’s high school career was largely apathetic. Maybe he’s growing up.

 

More importantly, his dad agrees that he should have a roommate. So that’s how he finds himself with Prompto in a new, somewhat modest, but spacious, well-lit two bedroom apartment. They’re in the college district, so most of the buildings are old large homes converted into apartments. Their apartment spans an entire floor, and it’s got a weird layout. It’s the top level, with stairs coming up that opens into the middle of a long corridor that spans the place, front to back. The two bedrooms are in the front, then there’s the living room, a small dining room, a utility room off to the side, and the kitchen at the end, with a little deck for Prompto to smoke his cigarettes. It’s a bad habit Prompto picked up on in the past year, working a brief stint at a really shitty minimum wage job – and Noct’s trying to convince him to quit, but Prompto seems to think it makes him look ‘cool’ so whatever.

 

They’re slowly unpacking. And by ‘slowly unpacking’, Noct means that he’s bribed Ignis and Gladio to help. Not that it really requires that much convincing. Ignis has been in good spirits lately. Now that Noct’s in college, his responsibilities have let up a little. More importantly, Noct lives close by now, and Ignis doesn’t have to make the commutes to tutor him, to ‘mentor and advise’, which was technically his role, working for Noct’s dad. He’s in surprisingly good spirits. And Gladio, the big hulking freak he is, actually _likes_ lifting heavy shit, and it really didn’t take anything more than a vague mention that he’d appreciate the help moving in for him to volunteer his services. Gladio’s dad is Noct’s dad’s closest friend, so they’ve pretty much grown up together. At some point, Gladio’s made it his goal to try and get Noctis into shape, and he almost succeeded. He couldn’t quite beat the chronic laziness out of Noct though. But goddamnit, he’s trying now.

 

“Why the hell do you own so many comic books?” Noctis huffs as they make the trek up the narrow staircase again. Luckily, Gladio and Ignis did most of the heavy lifting, with furniture and such, probably because they value the damage deposit Noct’s dad has put down on the place. The TV, too, because Prompto’s a bit of a clumsy oaf and would probably smash the screen on a door corner or the staircase railing. But Gladio’s pointedly refused to lift any of the stuff that can be easily managed by the pair of them. Namely, Prompto’s countless boxes of heavy books, Noct’s video game collection, his collectable figurines, suitcases, Prompto’s boxes of cosmetics, so on.

 

“Because they’re _cool,_ ” Prompto groans as he pauses halfway up the stairs, balances the box heavily against the wall, placed precariously against the handrail. “I kinda didn’t ever think about _moving_ them.”

 

“Next time, I’ll just buy you fuckin’ replacements,” Noct’s all grumbles as he adjusts the box he’s carrying and hoists it up the few final steps to heave it down onto the floor just inside the door. These are the last fucking boxes, thank god. They’re all stacked precariously in the hallway.

 

“Whatever man. Some of us aren’t made of money,” Prompto huffs.

 

“Noct certainly isn’t, either,” Ignis points out. He’s overheard, from where he and Gladio are setting up the entertainment stand in the living room.

 

“Sure thinks he is though,” Gladio agrees, and the two share a moment of laughter. They’ve got most of the room assembled, though, so Noct can’t even do much more than grumble about ‘nosy advisors’ because really, it’d probably exist in a pathetic shamble if his friends weren’t so goddamn efficient about everything they do.

 

It’s a good day, though. A really good day. Even if Iggy and Gladio stick around until all the essentials are put away. All the furniture is together and more or less in the correct room. The kitchen is mostly unpacked, entirely thanks to Ignis’s efforts. He even ran to the corner market and picked up some basic groceries for them. Prompto’s done his part in unpacking most of his clothes and all his cosmetics, though Noct throws his suitcase messily in his own closet and plans to just drag out clothing as he needs it. Eventually, things will get put away that way.

 

Fuck, Iggy and Gladio even let them drink a little. Even Gladio indulges in a beer (he’s usually very disciplined, follows a strict diet and a stricter training regiment), and it’s fairly late in the evening when the two finally make their leave. Ignis, of course, lectures Noct and Prompto about keeping the door locked, about double checking that the balcony door is locked too, not to leave the air conditioner running, etc etc. Like they’re kids or something. Though really, they kinda are.

 

Neither of them are drunk though, when they find themselves alone. Noctis can’t even justify it as being tipsy. He might have been earlier, when they’d been actively drinking, but they’d finished up a while ago, had been seated in the living room playing video games and shooting the shit. It’s a colder night, despite it being the beginning of August. Insomnia’s had a weird summer, relatively mild, but with surprisingly strong wind. And, this part of town, they’re closer to the ocean, so that probably contributes some to the strong breeze coming in through the open window.

 

It’s cool that they’re living together. They find themselves in Noct’s room, sprawled across his bed. He’s the one with the massive bed, Prompto’s still sporting a little twin, but Noct’s had a queen for as long as he can remember. Since he was sick a lot as a kid, had been bedridden a lot, his dad had gotten him one of those super fancy giant ones, with the adjustable mattress and everything. It was hell to move – he’s grateful, again, that his friends had helped out. Thing weighs a ton. It made the debate on who got the bigger bedroom easy, though, because Noct’s stuff takes up way more room. The bed is right next to the open window, and so they’re on top of the bed, but they’ve pulled a spare blanket over top of them.

 

“Can’t believe we’re in college now,” Prompto’s saying. Noct is reading reviews for a game he’s thinking about buying, but he’s really only reading every other word, thumbing lazily down the screen.

 

“Aren’t in college yet. Classes don’t start for a month,” Noct points out. He had suggested to his dad that they move in early to get used to the area, to get used to living on their own, and Noct had been pleasantly surprised that his dad agreed. There’s a rush of cold air through the window, and he shivers, ducks down further under the blanket. Prompto’s pressed close, and Noct can feel his friend, warm and comforting against his side.

 

There’s silence for a bit. Then. “Close enough,” Prompto says. “Living on our own. The college dream,” a little laugh, and Noct has to laugh as well, nudging their shoulders together. Really is the fucking dream. His dad’s paying for their apartment, and it’s a pretty nice place, in a decent part of town. Lots of bars, little markets, a fancy coffee shop on the same block? Yeah. They’re gonna have a good four years. It’s really different from his dad’s place, and Prompto’s adopted, to parents who always took care of his basic needs, but they traveled most of the time, were never home. So it’s a change for both of them.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says again, and there’s a bit of hesitation. Just a hint of it. But it’s enough to catch Noct’s attention. He tips his head, shifts so that he’s on his side, head propped up on an elbow, peering at Prompto, who’s still settled on his belly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Prompto turns too, and now they’re facing each other. Lying on their sides, inches apart. Really kinda close. It’s dark, but there’s a faint glow from Noct’s phone, and there’s a streetlight outside filtering orange light in. Noct can make out the shine of Prompto’s eyes, the shape of his lips, the way his hair is pressed down over his forehead. He looks good.

 

“This is kinda dumb,” Prompto groans, and Noct is pretty sure his friend is flushing, even though the light is too dim to actually make out that kind of detail. “But. Dude. You uh, remember that talk we had? Last year? When we were drinking at your place.”

 

Noctis remembers. He definitely remembers. It’d been his idea, after all. His drunken idea, but he has to admit, he’s thought about it a few times between then and now. Mostly when he’s got a whole lot of pent up need, when he’s feeling particularly horny, and there’s nobody to relieve the tension. No girls to think of. Sometimes, he imagines doing stuff with Prompto, and he’s positive it’s because of this lingering weird promise in the back of his mind. It doesn’t help that Prompto’s admitted he’s kinda-sorta into dudes, too – “girls mostly though”  – another drunk conversation they’ve had, over the past year. Noctis doesn’t think he is. Noct’s pretty sure he’s straight. Apart from thinking about his best friend. And even if there’s a bit of curiosity, Noctis has a complicated relationship with his dad. He’s got this sense of obligation to eventually marry a proper woman, to settle down and have kids and carry on the family legacy, in a sense. It’s a big messy jumble of things. But. Prompto is his best friend. This doesn’t need to be weird. It’s Noct’s idea, after all.

 

“Yeah I remember,” Noctis says after a moment. “Got a few weeks to go. Challenge is on.”

 

“I’m not going to find a girl before then,” Prompto sighs, and he outright closes the distance between them to press his face into Noct’s chest. They’re best friends, the best friends in the whole world really, and it’s not unusual for them to be close like this. It feels… weird though. Maybe a little different. “We just moved across the damn city. I don’t know anyone.”

 

Noctis shrugs. He knows it’s true. Ignis and Gladio don’t live far, but it’s not like that’s an option. That’s even weirder than this pact he’s made with Prompto. Plus they’re not girls. And hell, he’s the one who suggested their arrangement a year ago. It’s only weird if they make it weird. So he arranges his face in the most neutral expression he can manage, gently pries Prompto’s head up out of his shoulder so they’re looking at each other. “You wanna mess around some then?”

 

The words are casual, and Noct’s expression is even more casual, and Prompto damn near sputters as their eyes meet. “I – what?! _Now?!”_ Prompto’s cheeks are red, and Noct’s eyes have adjusted enough that he can make it out in the dim light. It makes the freckles stand out even more. His eyes are wide. And Noctis can’t help but think, his friend looks really good.

 

“Well yeah. You said it yourself. College starts in a month. Only college girls around here.” Noct shrugs. He still isn’t entirely convinced it matters. But Prompto cares, and well, it’s been kinda shitty only having his hand. It’d be kinda nice to touch another person. Even if that person is his best friend. Even if he’s mostly straight, definitely not gay. Prompto really does look good though.

 

There’s silence. Prompto’s eyes are shining as they search Noct’s for… something? Noct is pretty sure Prompto’s rejecting the idea. He should have known, really, that when it came down to it, they wouldn’t do it. It’d been a drunken pact they’d made, right? No real truth to it. Hopefully Prompto will look past it in the morning. Even though Prompto is the one who brought it up right now, Noct’s the one who prepositioned him. It doesn’t need to be weird, even though well fuck, it’ll be a little weird, being rejected by his best friend. But the silence is ticking on, and Noct’s about to shrug it off, to play it off as a tease and go back to his phone, but then—

 

“Yeah,” Prompto says suddenly in a rush. He’s leaning closer, there’s barely any space between them. Their lips are a hair’s width apart, and Noct can feel Prompto’s breath warm and over him. “Let’s do it, Noct,” Prompto adds, as if he needs to clarify, and then it’s Prompto who makes the first move, closes that tiny distance between them and presses their lips together firmly.

 

It’s a bad first kiss between them. Prompto says he’s kissed girls before. Noct’s had a couple of drunken kisses before, but nothing… with any sort of meaning behind it. Even if he’s not sure what the meaning behind this is, it feels more _real_ than anything he’s done before. It’s not the worst a kiss could be, in any case, but certainly not amazing. Their noses bump, and Prompto’s just a hint uncertain, and he makes a weird noise when Noct presses in. And then, Prompto jerks back with a wince when Noct’s tongue swipes over his lips, and Noct realizes vaguely he’s tasting blood, and—

 

“Dude, did you bite your lip?!” Noct can’t help but laugh out a little, because it’s fucking absurd, and totally something that would only happen to them.

 

“Well I didn’t expect you to use _tongue,_ ” Prompto groans, and he’s definitely embarrassed. Noct realizes he finds it really fucking endearing though, that he’s okay with it, and he goes back in for another kiss. This time, it’s a little better. They line it up right. Prompto’s waiting for it when Noct’s tongue swipes over his lips, and he parts for him. Prompto tastes like the copper tang of blood, and there’s definitely a cut on his lip. It’s not super appealing, but underneath it, he tastes faintly of cigarettes and sugary mints that Prompto’s taken to chewing on after he smokes to muffle the scent of smoke. Noct likes the strange mingling tastes, and he deepens the kiss even more. There’s a hand tangled in Prompto’s hair, at the back of his neck, and Prompto’s making soft noises into his mouth that Noct can only interpret as encouragement.

 

They find themselves shifting, until Noct is sitting up against the headboard, a pillow propped behind him, and Prompto’s in his lap. Prompto has a hand snaked up Noct’s back, under his shirt, stroking along his spine. They’re kissing frantically now, and it’s not all lips. Prompto’s head tips back when Noct’s lips find his jaw, make their way down his throat, nip at exposed collarbone, thanks to the tank top Prompto is wearing. There’s probably going to be a little mark there in the morning, but Noct doesn’t think he cares. Then Prompto tugs him back up, catches his lips in a hot kiss, and Noct sighs happily into Prompto’s mouth.

 

Their hips are rocking together now as Prompto straddles him. Noct’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and some loose-fitting boxers, and it’s doing nothing to mask how fucking hard he is already. Prompto’s slightly more dressed, in jeans, but he reaches down between them to undo the top button of his jeans and wedge them down his hips a little to ease some of the pressure. He’s got briefs on underneath, and he’s just as fucking hard.

 

“You wanna?” Noct manages as they part, and they’re both panting for breath, ragged and harsh rises of their chests as they press close. A hand shifts to Prompto’s hip now and Noct rolls up into him, grinding their clothed erections together.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto gets out, breathless, eyes shining as they look at each other. It’s only for a moment though, because Prompto is falling forward, letting his head fall on Noct’s shoulder as he meets his thrust halfway. It’s awkward and stupid, how worked up they are from a bit of kissing, from lips ghosting over jaws, hands snaking under shirts and squeezing at bare skin. There isn’t even any need to go further than this, because their hips are moving together. The rhythm is awkward at first, isn’t quite right – Prompto keeps grinding down too hard, not quite in sync with Noct thrusting up. But they find it, partially thanks to Noct’s hand on Prompto’s hip guiding their movements. And Prompto’s face in Noct’s shoulder feels good, because he’s placing frantic kisses there, over his collar, where Noct’s v-neck t-shirt has ridden down and revealed pale skin. There’s a hot knot of need growing, and it’s only a few minutes of this, of the desperate rhythm, increasing in pace, in need, until they’re both gasping out, clutching at each other. Noct’s first, gripping Prompto’s hip hard enough to leave bruises as he comes, makes a total wet mess in his sweatpants. Prompto follows though, and whether it’s just the way Noct’s hips keep snapping up, riding out his orgasm, or the harshness of fingertips digging into his skin, who knows.

 

Slowly, they come down. Slowly, Prompto lifts his head from Noct’s shoulder. There’s the urge to kiss his best friend, but Noct pushes it aside. He keeps Prompto close though, as he shifts them until they’re lying back down on the bed. Their pants are a mess. Noct’s sweatpants are wet in the front, and Prompto’s jeans are sticking to him. They need to shower.

 

“Did that…. count?” Prompto says after a long moment, after Noct’s got them arranged so Prompto’s on his side, facing the window, and Noct’s scooted up behind him, chest pressed to Prompto’s back, an arm lazily thrown around his waist.

 

“Course it counted,” Noct stays close, but he shifts a little to reach behind them, to feel blindly until his fingers close around his discarded phone. He checks the time – it’s still too early to sleep, really. They needed to clean up, probably should take showers. But he’s tired, oddly spent and really warm and content to have Prompto pressed up close. So he closes his eyes, anyway. Noct’s really always capable of sleep, and his grip around Prompto’s waist is loose enough that his best friend can escape anyway.

 

When Noct wakes up in the morning, Prompto’s gone. But Noct’s a heavy sleeper. He doesn’t realize that Prompto slept there, too, until the sun rose. Prompto’s a bit of an early riser though, and he’s a runner, so he was awake like clockwork to get a distance run in before the heat came. Prompto’s got breakfast going for them, though, and it’s a simple one, just some scrambled eggs and toast, but it smells really fucking good. And, most importantly, Noct’s best friend is all smiles, and things aren’t really weird at all, though their eyes meet a few times as Noct scarfs down his late breakfast, and there’s a bit of emotion running between them. Still. It’s good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole 'boys moving in and awkwardly kissing' scene is literally stolen entirely from an RP w/ @notempty, just rewritten and reworked to fit the premise of a college AU, and i'm 100% giving her credit for inspiring most of this part <3
> 
> (also, i'm on tumblr @destatree, and i'll probably be posting stuff related to this fic shortly before it goes on ao3 for proof-reading purposes!)


	3. Broadening Horizons or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not smoking that shit,” Noct says, even though he can probably be convinced.
> 
> “Dude. Duh. That’s why we’ve got the brownies,” Prompto’s grinning, and Noct’s eyes widen just a little as he catches on. Oh. Okay. Maybe that would be kinda fun.

“What’s that?”

 

Noct raises an eyebrow as Prompto shuffles back into the apartment. He’s taken the back stairs and come in through the balcony door. They’ve been here for a week now. The apartment is actually starting to look like people live here, even if those people are two horribly disorganized idiot college freshmen. It’s mostly thanks to Ignis, though, who has made it his life goal, it seems, to have the two unpacked before classes start. A lofty goal, because Noct has a whole lot of stuff, and hasn’t lifted a finger.

 

Prompto’s got his arms full of stuff. He lets the door fall shut behind him, nudges it closed with a hip, and dumps everything rather unceremoniously on the table. There’s a big ass binder stuffed to the brim with papers, some spare pages he hadn’t bothered to tuck in there with messy folds and crinkles over top, and a paper bag full of mysterious miscellaneous items. And a half-gone fancy looking coffee still in Prompto’s hand. Noct grumbles and pushes it aside. He’s eating _breakfast_ on this table, damnit. Fruity pebbles and an energy drink, like a true adult. Nevermind that it’s 3 PM.

 

“Okay so,” Prompto pulls up chair, spins it around, and sits down on it backwards, his arms thrown over the back, chin resting on top of the back frame. “Like, it’s super cool that your dad’s paying for this place. But _I_ need a girlfriend. Which means _I_ need to take girls out on dates and stuff. Buy them dinner. Pay for things.”

 

“Okay,” Noct isn’t sure he’s following. He just woke up, after all. He’s tired. He takes another bite of cereal, and his aim misses a little, dribbling rainbowesque colored milk down the front of his shirt. Fuck. They just did laundry, too (or rather, Ignis did).

 

“So these, my friend,” Prompto grins, looks _very_ proud of himself, and shoves the binder full of papers closer to Noct, “are job applications.”

 

“Gross,” Noct doesn’t miss a beat, and he rolls his eyes. He plans on doing well in college, yes. Hell, Noct has even given some serious thought about what he wants to do. And maybe he’ll actually take other aspects of his life more seriously. Maybe he’ll finally join a real gym and put some effort in with Gladio. Maybe he’ll let Ignis actually tutor him instead of pretending to listen. Hell, maybe Noct will even set an alarm to go off earlier than noon. But he’s definitely hoping to avoid the whole ‘shitty part time job’ gig that most college kids end up with.

 

“Okay yeah,” Prompto laughs, and grins again, though it’s a bit self-deprecating, “so most of these jobs are gross. Coffee shop’s hiring though. _And,”_ and Prompto actually looks pretty fucking happy with himself for a moment, “there’s a photography studio that needs an assistant.”

 

Well. That’s right up Prompto’s alley. Noct blinks, and takes the form that Prompto’s holding out to him, looking it over. A job application, and Prompto’s already hastily half-filled it in. Interesting. Noct’s stomach does a little flip at the idea of Prompto having a job, and he can’t… quite place it, can’t justify why he’s suddenly feeling a bit anxious about it. Maybe it’s the thought of being alone in the apartment. Yeah, it’s definitely the thought of being alone in a new place. After all, even if his dad was rarely home, it was someplace familiar. And Prompto was usually over. It’ll just be weird when they’re apart for classes (they’ll have their common core classes together, but they’re aiming at different majors), and then apart later, too.

 

Noct doesn’t even give the ‘girlfriend’ comment a second thought – though maybe he should, because maybe that’s why he’s upset, too. Maybe. But they haven’t really talked about that night a week back, and things haven’t been weird. Noct’s of the opinion that there’s no point in really making it weird. _You know what would make it weird, though?_ Noct’s been telling himself, firmly, _talking about it._ So why talk about it? No need to do that.

 

“Think Iggy will help me with my resume?!” Prompto’s practically bouncing in his seat, the nervous energy is radiating off him. Noct wants to suggest his friend stop freaking out and just go run it off, the freak he is. Who runs for fun?! Oh. Right. Prompto.

 

“Probably,” Noct says idly. Then, fuck, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, no. Don’t ask him. Then he’ll get it in his head that _I_ should get a job.”

 

“Yeah, even better! You can get a job near me! We can get lunch together!” Prompto’s out of the chair now, and he’s pacing the kitchen, emanating more of that nervous energy.

 

“Doesn’t eating out defeat the purpose of saving money?” Noct rolls his eyes. Like he cares about money anyway. He’s getting an allowance as long as his grades are good, and he’s well aware that he’s going to be working his ass off to keep them that way.

 

“Well, maybe.”

 

“And y’know, you should quit smoking. That shit’s expensive,” Noct has another point. Doesn’t quite understand how a guy can go for a ten mile run to ‘stay healthy’ and then take a drag on a cigarette. He’s mostly teasing though. Mostly. Not like Prompto’s smoking inside and bugging him, in any case.

 

“You know I smoke like, one a day, right? It’s for _nerves_ , Noct.” Prompto whips around to glare.

 

“Yeah. Nerves that you acquired the _last_ time you had a job. It lasted what, four months?”

 

Prompto humphs. “That was different. This is a _photography studio._ Noct. You know I like this shit, right?! And… okay. We’re not in high school anymore. I gotta actually be able to buy a girl dinner now if I want a girlfriend.”

 

Noct’s still pretending he doesn’t care that Prompto’s back on his ‘gotta get a girlfriend’ obsession. Maybe his best friend is on to something. Maybe a job will show his dad that he’s serious. Maybe it’ll help him meet a girl who isn’t stuck up, entirely into him solely because they know he’s wealthy. His lack of interest in girls is just because he hasn’t met the right one, after all, right? Just maybe. Or, hell, maybe the idea of being stuck alone in the apartment napping all the time doesn’t have the appeal and glamor that Noct expected it to.

  
“Whatever. I’ll ask Iggy to go over your resume with you,” Noct just wants to finish his cereal. He sighs as he pokes his spoon around in the bowl. Great. It’s gone soggy. And they’re almost out of milk, so he doesn’t wanna pour another bowl. Noct heaves a sigh and decides he doesn’t need to eat, after all. “So what’s in the bag?”

 

“Eh?” Prompto, it appears, has totally forgotten about the paper bag he dumped on the counter. He pauses, looks at Noct, and then seemingly remembers, eyes gone wide, and Prompto’s expression changes in an instant, from a vague, bizarre mixture of gratitude and torment (which sums their friendship up quite nicely), to overexcited puppy again. “Okay. Alright. Check it out.”

 

Prompto bounds over to the table, and he makes a great show of emptying the contents of this bag on the table. Which really, isn’t that exciting. There’s a box of brownie mix, a small carton of egg white mixture, and a pound of butter. Noct isn’t quite sure what Prompto’s going for here, because… well, they have an expert baker at their disposal. And, no offense to his best friend, but boxed brownies aren’t going to beat anything Ignis could bring them at Noct’s whim.

 

“Brownies?” Noctis looks bored.

 

“Not just brownies,” Prompto’s grinning still, and he sits back down at the table. “Okay. So. I had to do some orientation stuff at the college, right? – and dude, you really should be doing that too – “ Noct waves a hand dismissively at that, because even though he’s pretty serious about the actual school part of it, he doesn’t give a damn about the socializing aspect of it. Prompto’s already trying to drag him off to freshmen meetups and the like, and it’s definitely not Noct’s thing. Personally, he doesn’t think it’s Prompto’s thing either, and that he needs to stop trying. Hopefully that comes with time.

 

“Anyway,” Prompto’s going on, “I met this guy. And we got chatting. And, you know how college is a time to ‘broad your horizons’ and try new stuff?”

 

‘Yeah’ Noct wants to say, ‘like jerking off with your best friend.’ He doesn’t though. He stays silent, and gives Prompto an appropriately patronizing look.

 

“Noctis. Don’t even,” Prompto groans. But even Noct’s lack of enthusiasm, it seems, can’t silence the beast that is excited Prompto with a seemingly amazing idea. Prompto’s face lights up again with a bright smile, and he whips a small little package out of his back pocket. “So anyway, guy gives me this.”

 

‘This’ as Noct realizes pretty fast, is a little baggie of weed. Awesome. His impossibly-outgoing-but-secretly-introverted best friend has made questionable friends and school hasn’t even started yet, and now he’s bringing drugs back into Noct’s apartment. Okay. But really. It’s kinda not a terrible idea.

 

“I’m not smoking that shit,” Noct says, even though he can probably be convinced.

 

“Dude. Duh. That’s why we’ve got the brownies,” Prompto’s grinning, and Noct’s eyes widen just a _little_ as he catches on. Oh. Okay. Maybe that would be kinda fun.

 

“I guess I’m interested,” Noct admits, and then he bursts into laughter because his best friend is an idiot. Job applications and illegal drugs, all in one trip?  “Better hope that photography studio doesn’t drug test,” Noct adds between laughs, and Prompto’s eyes widen.

 

“Fuck, do they _do_ that?! I never even thought about it!”

 

Four fucking hours later, this is proving to be a really bad idea though. Well, maybe not ‘really bad’ but certainly not one of Prompto’s better ideas. They’ve got Noct’s iPad propped up on the counter against the wall. Cannabis butter, it proves, is actually really hard to make.

 

There’s apparently a whole process to it. One that involves a whole lot of time simmering it at a low temperature with water. It’s taking way longer than it’s worth, and Noctis makes a point of making sure Prompto knows that about every five minutes or so. He’s lost interest… well, about ten minutes in, if Noctis is being totally honest about it. Now he’s sitting at the kitchen table again, flipping through his phone.

  
Prompto, on the other hand, is dutifully hovering over the hot stove. The how-to article they pulled up said to stir ‘occasionally’ so obviously that meant he should stir every thirty seconds for the last three hours, right? It’s a cool day for August, but the heat radiating off the burner is constant, and it’s made Prompto toss his sweater aside. His tank top’s riding up on his hips, pants slung low, and there’s a little reveal of sweat-damp skin at the small of his back as he leans over the simmering pot, nervously giving another stir with a spoon.

 

“Hey Noct?” Prompto calls over his shoulder.

 

Noctis flicks his eyes away from his phone, glances to his right, where Prompto’s busy at work. “Yeah?”

 

“Instructions say I need to run it through some cheesecloth. We got any of that?”

 

Noctis just kinda stares at Prompto. Cheesecloth? Why the fuck would he know if they had that? Does Noctis look like the type of person who cooks? Noct’s diet, on days when Prompto doesn't do basic cooking for them, or Ignis comes by to cook, consists of frozen pizza, burritos, and a whole lot of cereal. He knows how to use a microwave. Or how to preheat an oven to 425 and bake a single-serving party pizza for ten-to-twelve minutes. Other than that? Nope. Hopeless.

 

“I don’t even know what cheesecloth is,” Noctis groans. “You didn’t read the recipe beforehand?”

 

“I _skimmed_ it,” Prompto confesses with a sigh. “It didn’t seem that hard.”

 

“You’ve been doing this for three hours. Should’ve clued you in that it’s not easy,” Noctis has gone back to his phone. Because… well, as interested as he is in these brownies, after three hours, he’s pretty much turned his attention to something else. Namely, he’s kicking Gladio’s ass at some word game. Or, more realistically, Gladio is kicking his ass, because Gladio reads a whole lot more than Noct does. It’s okay, though, because Noctis is gonna make a comeback before the end of the game, he’ll get those extra two hundred points that Gladio is up by and he’ll make a surprising win. Yep.

 

“Yeah well, tedious and difficult are different things,” Prompto sighs. “Can you like, call Ignis and ask him if we have any?”

 

Well, on the one hand, if they had anything like that, Ignis would be the one person who knew. On the other hand… he’ll probably want to know what the hell they were up to. And Noctis isn’t quite sure what the hell he is going to tell Ignis, there. Sure, he generally has his friend wrapped around his finger but…. At the end of the day, Ignis reports back to his dad. Noct doesn’t  know if he could work that much fucking magic to keep this whole thing under wraps. He really doesn’t feel like having his newfound freedom yanked away from him already.

 

“That’s probably not a good idea. He’s gonna want to know _why,_ Prompto. I don’t know what to tell him.”

 

Prompto frowns. “ _Fine._ I need help then. A… strainer or something. We have one of those, right? For pasta? Come here Noct, help me…”

 

Five minutes later, after they discover that the holes on the strainer aren’t fine enough to get all of the solid little pieces out of their butter-water mixture, when they’re left with a mess of solidifying butter on the bottom of the strainer (that Prompto is making a greasy mess of himself trying to scrape back into the pan), Noct agrees to call Ignis.

  
It doesn’t quite go so well.

 

“Hey, Iggy,” Noct’s drawl is casual, even though he’s definitely kicking a foot against a table leg, and it betrays the fact that he’s nervous. “Prompto’s making brownies or something. He needs cheesecloth. Do we have any?” A pause. “I dunno, Ignis, do I _look_ like I bake? I don’t know what he needs it for exactly.” Another pause, and Noct’s voice rises just a tiny bit, “ _no,_ you don’t need to come by.” Another pause, and Noct shoots Prompto a really fucking dirty look. “Seriously, Ignis, the place is a mess, don’t’ come by…” another pause, “what do you _mean_ I’m acting suspicious?!”

 

Ignis hangs up on him. After promising to be there to help in a few minutes.

 

“I hate you Prompto,” Noct sighs. “What the hell are we gonna do now?”

  
The answer to that is apparently ‘nothing’ because Ignis had promised over the phone that he was in the area and he’d be by in a few minutes, and that’s definitely not a lie or an understatement. Five minutes later, Ignis is at the door, and he lets himself in, doesn’t even give Noct the chance to try and pretend they aren’t home, that they’ve mysteriously vacated the premises in five minutes.

 

First, Noct groans, because Ignis isn’t alone. He’s got an absolutely terrifying looking woman with him. She’s quite pretty, with a young face, but she walks like a woman who has had a lot of life experience. She’s cute, too – silver hair in a messy bun, black crop top that shows off a really nice amount of stomach, tight jeans, and thigh high boots with a good amount of heel. But Noct can’t really focus much on that, with the way she just saunters into their little kitchen like she owns the place. And the withering look she gives Noct, as she follows Ignis into the room, is absolutely enough to make him shrink back into the chair.

 

Second, obviously, they haven’t been able to figure out a way to hide exactly what they’re up to. Game over.

 

“Ah,” Ignis says, leaning in the doorway, watching Prompto squeak and flush as he’s poking at his precious butter concoction on the stove. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“This place reeks,” the strange lady says, and she outright fucking laughs. Noct groans, and buries his face in the table. Prompto’s cheeks are bright red. “This is the kid you babysit, Specs? Fuck, no wonder you’re always in such a shitty mood.”

 

“Oh come on, I’m not _that_ bad,” Noctis tries his best to look at least slightly intimidating, but the woman just laughs again, and saunters over to peek behind Prompto. Even in heels, she’s shorter than Prompto is, but he jumps back anyway, more than a little intimidated.

 

“Iggy, you gotta teach these poor kids a thing or two about quality strand,” the woman is still laughing though, and Prompto shrinks back against the window by the stove, putting some distance between them. He shoots Noct a helpless look, and Noctis just kinda shrugs.

 

“I was hoping to avoid this conversation at least until classes have started,” Ignis shakes his head, presses his glasses further up his nose, and he finally wanders over to the stove, peers over the woman’s shoulder (he towers over her; Iggy’s on the taller side, and Noct’s always been somewhat jealous). “Honestly, how did you two even find this?”

 

“Don’t blame Noct,” Prompto manages to admit with a defeated sigh, “a guy I met at orientation hooked me up.” Though he still looks like he’s going to jump out of his skin. Or maybe pass out. Noctis can’t tell which, from where he’s at the table, trying to look like he isn’t terrified. He’s almost succeeding. At the very least, he’s doing better than Prompto is.

 

“I hope he didn’t _charge_ you for this,” Ignis sighs. “The quality is dreadful.” He reaches over the woman’s shoulder, grabs the spoon, and gives the pot a stir, before he retreats and rummages through the kitchen cabinets. And, of course, because he’s fucking Ignis, there is indeed cheesecloth tucked away in one of the drawers. Noct doesn’t even really know _why_ it’s there, but he knows if he presses the matter, Ignis will just vaguely tell him it’s a ‘kitchen necessity’ or something stupid like that.

 

“By the way,” Ignis is taking over the efforts entirely now. Prompto’s shifted to the kitchen table, collapsed on a chair next to Noctis, though that’s mostly because the strange woman stole his spot, perched on the windowsill near the stove, “this is Aranea. She’s a colleague, of sorts.”

 

“Of sorts?” the woman – Aranea, as Noct has just learned – snorts and runs a hand through her hair, “you always make things so weird and formal. Ignis here is just jealous that I’m ripping his thesis apart,” and she manages a laugh that sounds almost dignified, though Noct thinks she’s taking far too much pleasure out of this situation.

 

“Not at all,” Ignis sounds way too amused by this banter. Noct’s whipped out his phone again, his go-to to avoid weirdness, but he’s kinda staring at the two of them. What the hell is going on? Why is this his life? Prompto’s not even bothering to hide the fact that he’s staring. Is Ignis seriously in their apartment helping them with this half-assed plan to bake some edibles? Without so much as a _question,_ commenting on the (apparently poor) quality of their procured weed, of all things? Fuck.

 

“You know I enjoy a good challenge,” Ignis fucking winks at Aranea, and he’s busy straining the butter mixture now. When he gets all the bits squeezed out of it, he puts the bowl in the fridge, and looks over his shoulder at Noctis, who quickly goes back to pretending to be interested in his phone.

 

“Use the crockpot next time,” Ignis tells him, with a knowing smile, one that’s only _mildly_ patronizing. “Far less work. Right up your alley, Noct,” and really, that much does appeal to Noct’s lazy side. Not that he’s ever planning on doing this himself. Or doing it ever again, for that matter. “Your butter has to cool in the fridge for a while.”

 

Noct manages a hasty nod. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are slightly red. He hasn’t quite processed it yet. He doesn’t think that Ignis is going to tell his dad. As a matter of fact, Ignis doesn’t really seem to care. Though he’s been sneaking Noct alcohol for a couple of years now, has helped him sneak out of the house several times, too. Still, this is a bit of an adjustment, it’s something… _different._ Noctis isn’t quite sure how he feels.

  
“So uh. You guys wanna stick around? Your brownies are way better than the boxed ones,” Noctis finally says, weakly, and the sound Prompto makes next to him suggests that his friend doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

  
“Oh we’d _love_ to,” Aranea responds before Ignis can get a word in otherwise, and she’s fixing Noct and Prompto with an absolutely fierce smile, one that reduces the both of them to feeling like tiny, pathetic little insects. Maybe a bad call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is out of hand, i'm sorry. there's more, i had to split it into 2 chapters because it's unreal. i thought i had it together and then aranea showed up because i can't not write aranea. oops. 
> 
> literally this sums up a good deal of my college career, btw. i just didn't have friends so i smoked pot alone w/ my gay roommates, watched planet earth, and ate goldfish crackers. rip my early 20s.


	4. It Didn't Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh sweetheart,” Aranea doesn’t even try to hold back the laughter as she shakes her head, places her hand over her forehead and sighs. “Prompto, you poor thing. You’re not my type. And even if you were, I don’t date virgins.”

It takes a couple of hours for the butter to solidfy enough for Ignis to get rid of the excess water. (“Overnight would be better, but I expect you wish to reap the benefits of your efforts sooner rather than later” he adds with a knowing smile in their direction, and Noct feels like he’s going to die.) It’s another hour before he’s pulling a pan of freshly made brownies from the oven. They… well, they smell really fucking good. Ignis is a fucking genius in the kitchen. Noct’s definitely interested, and Prompto’s mouth is outright watering as he stares at the hot pan with wide eyes. At least if the edibles don’t actually get them high, they’ll taste good. There’s that much to look forward to, at least.

 

And really, the past few hours haven’t been that bad. Aranea, as they have learned, recently joined the reluctant world of academia. She doesn’t talk much about her past, just along the lines of that she was sick of selling her soul out to the corporate world, so she went back to school, finished up her doctorate, and now she’s “stuck advising the fresh faces”, though Ignis is about the farthest thing from a fresh face that Noct can think of.

 

“Least I’m not stuck with you idiots,” she points out happily enough though, and Noct grumbles something, but Prompto, all wide-eyed, kicks him, a silent warning to shut the hell up.

 

It works out, though, because it seems Aranea shares their terrible taste in movies. They watch some really bad horror flick, much to Ignis’s chagrin (he’s outnumbered three to one, as usual), while he prepares the brownies. There’s a fair amount of blood and gore, and Prompto spends half the movie clinging to Noct’s arm, the other half with his face buried in his shoulder. Aranea gleefully laughs through the more brutal scenes, which Noct finds… both terrifying and kinda hot, if he’s being totally honest with himself. She’s scary. He likes her. He can see why she and Ignis get along, at least. Halfway through, Gladio shows up – apparently Ignis texted him and told him what’s up, and apparently even Gladio can stand to relax sometimes. He’ll probably spend an extra hour at the gym the following day. Noct hopes that word doesn’t get back to his dad somehow.

 

Now, they’ve paused the movie so that Prompto can hover over Ignis in the kitchen as he cuts into the brownies. They’re not quite cool enough, but Ignis is willing to indulge Prompto’s impatience, because brownies really are best when they’re still slightly gooey and straight from the oven.

 

“Be careful with these,” Ignis lectures, as he hands over a napkin with a tiny square of brownie on it. “A little goes a long way. Exercise caution.”

 

Prompto groans, and nibbles at the corner. “This is like, a _really_ small piece, Iggy.”

 

“Yep, and it’ll get you fucked up,” Aranea comments as she wanders into the kitchen to steal a brownie. Noct watches her, skeptical, as he crumbles off a little piece of the brownie Ignis offered him, and licks the crumbs off his fingers. Okay, it doesn’t taste any different than a normal brownie. But… it’s really fucking good. Bless Ignis. He does notice that the piece Aranea takes is considerably larger than the ones they’re eating. Bigger than the one Ignis takes, too.

 

“What?” Aranea rolls her eyes as she catches Noct watching. “Never got to indulge much in my old life, _princess._ Besides, my tolerance levels are way higher than yours, guaranteed.”

 

Prompto opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and shuts it. Aranea seems to sense it though, because she laughs, and looks in his direction. “Wanna bet on it, blondie? I’ll take the challenge.”

 

“I. Uh. No, that’s okay!” Prompto is quick to say, and he goes back to his tiny brownie corner.

 

“Smart move, for once,” Gladio comments. He and Aranea know each other already, apparently. “Woman can drink me under the table,” Noctis makes a mental note to probe for details on that particular story later, because he’s intrigued. Gladio’s at least twice her size. Maybe even more.

 

Noctis shrugs. He doesn’t mind any of this too much. After all, It’s probably a bad idea if he and Prompto finish off the entire pan. He isn’t feeling anything yet, but he’s just started eating, so he works away at his treat, and wanders back into the living room to settle on the couch. In the kitchen, he can hear Prompto protesting “but I don’t feel anything! Just _one_ more, Iggy!” and he laughs, and closes his eyes.

 

It’s a tight squeeze, with all five of them, once they all get settled in. Aranea is quick to claim the recliner as her own, which leaves four grown men and one couch. Noct and Prompto might be on the shorter side, somewhat scrawny, but Gladio’s massive, and Ignis is tall and lanky. The three of them, at least – Noct, Gladio, Ignis – have grown up together, and being too close? Well, it’s nothing new. Prompto ends up curling up at Noct’s side, wedged between the arm of the couch and his best friend, and that’s a good spot for him. They turn off the action flick in favour of some nature documentary that Prompto’s started ranting about (“the camera angles are _sooo good, c’mon guys”_ ) and Noct has to admit he’s starting to feel… really good. He’s got Ignis at his left, an arm slung over Noct’s shoulder, and Prompto at his right, all snuggled up tight. Gladio’s on the far end, and he’s half sprawled in Iggy’s lap, a leg propped over the side of the couch.

 

“I don’t get it,” Noct says suddenly. His eyes feel heavy. His mind’s alternating between racing really fast, and trudging along sluggishly slow. He’s got a really nice TV, courtesy of his dad, and the colour on the curved screen stands out really well right now. They’re watching some episode about oceans, and there’s fish swimming around in great, brilliant flashes.

 

“Noct?” Ignis looks amused.

 

“Oh this should be good,” Aranea leans forward in her chair, grinning. Gladio grunts something. They’re all watching him. Noct can feel all their eyes. It makes him really fucking edgy, like something’s gonna jump out at him.

 

“It’s just,” Noct is talking anyway though, watching that stupid show with the fish and the water and dolphins chasing after them. He can’t take his eyes away. “Those fish. They have lives. Friends. Family. Just like us. And then bam!” he gives Prompto a shake, and his friend _screeches,_ jumps damn near out of the couch, “gone. Just like that. Dead.”

 

“ _Noct,”_ Prompto whines, and he shoves his elbow in Noct’s chest, probably a little too hard, but Noct can’t quite feel it, “I was _sleeping._ ” Prompto looks around, and his normally clear, bright blue eyes are red-rimmed, and his cheeks are flushed. “Woah. The world is spinning.”

 

“Someone snuck some extra brownies,” Aranea’s laughing, and there’s definitely a dangerous sparkle in her eye.

 

“Indeed,” Ignis tips his head, gets a good look at Prompto. He’s a hot mess. Prompto tries to defend himself, opens his mouth to protest – and immediately bursts into a manic fit of uncontrollable giggling, ducking his face down to hide in Noct’s shirt. And then, of course, he immediately starts rubbing his cheeks there.

 

“The fuck?” Noct isn’t really complaining. He’s still watching this stupid show. With the fish.

 

“Your shirt,” Prompto declares between giggle fits, “is _really soft,_ Noct. Like… a kitten or something.”

 

“A _kitten?”_ Aranea is taking in every word. She’s sitting cross-legged in the recliner, stiletto boots kicked off to the side, and she’s watching the two of them very intently. “He’s absolutely precious. Ignis, you really should have stopped him. But I’m glad you _didn’t._ ”

 

Ignis shrugs. Noctis outright saw him eat the damn brownie, but of course, his stupid advisor doesn’t look very affected. There are little subtle signs – a slight redness to his otherwise perfectly sharp eyes, and Ignis has taken his gloves off for once, which is surprising. He never takes his damn gloves off. But other than that? Perfectly composed. Of course, Noct doesn’t think about that too long, because. Fish. Swimming. Light glimmering on their little scales as they swim.

 

“I assume a hands on learning experience will be best,” Ignis is saying, with a faint little smile. “Best they learn their limits while they’re safe.”  

 

“Or you’ve just doomed Prince Laziness and his girlfriend to four years of being stoners,” Gladio shrugs, but he’s definitely got his phone out, and he’s definitely been taking videos all night so he can blackmail Noctis and Prompto in the morning. It’s always good to have dirt on your dad’s boss, after all.

 

“Guys,” Noctis said, and he tries to lift his arms in the air, but… wow, his arms feel heavy. The couch is comfortable. He leans slowly to the side, instead, until his head is lolling on Ignis’s shoulder. Yeah. Much better. “You’re ruining the show. These fish, they have _lives.”_

“Quit moving, Noct,” Prompto grumbles, and he lifts his head from Noct’s shirt, looks around the room with wide eyes, like he’s seeing it for the first time. Apparently Prompto’s been off in his own little world for a while – he really shouldn’t have snuck three brownies. Definitely not. Noctis snorts at his best friend’s expression. “How long have you all been here?” Prompto asks nobody in particular.

 

“The entire time, sweetheart. Every pathetic moment of it,” Aranea is quick to the draw, and she’s got an absolutely delightful smirk on her face as she catches Prompto’s eye. “Don’t worry. We have video evidence to remind you of that in the morning.” She and Gladio totally planned this. It’s clearly a conspiracy.

 

Prompto’s eyes narrow, and it seems like he’s trying _really_ hard to think up a suitable response. He’s really high though, and he’s swaying, and it draws Noct’s attention away from the television, temporarily.

  
“Aranea,” Prompto says suddenly. “Your name is _Aranea,_ ” and it’s like he’s suddenly remembered who she is, and the fact that they’ve already met. “You’re _really_ pretty,” he continues in a rush. Noct’s pretty high, but there’s definitely colour rushing to his face as Prompto rambles on. Oh no. Bad move. He tries to put a hand over Prompto’s mouth to shut him up, but his reflexes are really slow, and Prompto somehow is moving faster than Noct is, despite being way higher. Prompto ducks under Noct’s arm and leans across his lap, grinning like a fool.

 

“Am I, pretty boy?” Aranea’s eyes are shining with something fierce as she leans in. She’s totally encouraging Prompto on. This is dangerous.

 

“You _are,”_ Prompto sighs out a dreamy little sigh. “We should go out sometime.”

 

“Oh sweetheart,” Aranea doesn’t even try to hold back the laughter as she shakes her head, places her hand over her forehead and sighs. “Prompto, you poor thing. You’re not my type. And even if you were, I don’t date virgins.”

 

There’s a moment of silence as Prompto processes this. Then Gladio busts out laughing, Ignis shakes his head, an un-gloved hand pressed to his face, and Prompto outright _wails._

“Noct! _Dude._ You said that _counted!_ I told you! Girls can smell that we’re virgins. Noctis. _Noct._ This is the worst. I’m going to die!” and just like that, Prompto’s face is buried in Noct’s shirt again, and he’s tucked himself into a little ball, wedged between his best friend and the side of the couch, bemoaning his existence quietly.

 

“I assume we don’t want to know the meaning behind that outburst?” Ignis says politely, but his eyes are sharper than they should be, on Noctis.

 

“You really don’t,” Noct agrees. He’s mildly mortified because – well, it had counted, right? That’s what he’d thought. But fuck, Aranea saw right through them. Noct’s way too high to process this, and he wants to forget it, but… he’s _high_ and Prompto’s outburst has cut right through it. Noctis sighs, tips his head back down onto Ignis’s shoulder, and tries to focus on the television again, on the patterns on the wall, on the texture of Ignis’s shirt against his cheek – anything except Prompto, curled up close, and the memories of what had happened last week.

 

The rest of the time goes by in a bit of a blur. It’s getting late, though, and Gladio’s the first one to leave, citing that he’s got early training. Aranea’s not long after, and the _look_ she gives Ignis when he offers to walk her home is enough to reduce Prompto to giggles again (even though he’s now even more terrified of the woman). Finally, it’s just Ignis, and he’s hovering a little as Noct’s attempting to drag Prompto off the couch.

 

“You’ll be okay?” Ignis looks vaguely concerned. Noct’s mostly sobered up by now. He’s still a little sluggish, and really tired, but Prompto’s still, well, _gone._

 

“We’ll be fine, Iggy. He’s way worse when he’s drunk,” Noct dismisses the concerns with a shrug. Prompto will what, giggle for a few hours and then fall asleep? They’ve been through worse together. Nothing will be as bad as the time Prompto projectile vomited all over the bathroom wall, after all. That went down in history as the one time Noctis actually cleaned his bathroom.

 

“Stay indoors for the night,” Ignis is half-lecturing, but he still looks concerned. He pauses, puts a hand on Noct’s shoulder, gives him a _look._ “I’ll be around. Call if you need me.”

 

“I know. I will.” Noctis is still just on the other side of sober, and he smiles a tight little smile back. Ignis really is a good friend. A better friend than Noctis deserves. Ignis lets himself out, after he makes Noctis follow him to the door to lock it behind him, and then it’s just the two of them – him and Prompto -  alone for the night.

 

“Okay,” Noctis goes back to trying to pry Prompto up off the couch, “let’s get you to bed.”

 

It takes some grumbling and some coaxing, but Noct finally succeeds. Prompto’s got an arm thrown around Noct’s shoulders as they head back down the hall to the front of the apartment, but he stops, pauses them as they approach Noct’s room.

 

“I wanna sleep in your bed,” Prompto decides suddenly.

 

“You’ll feel better in yours,” Noct’s sighing, because arguing with Prompto when he’s in this mindset is probably pointless. It’s not as bad as his friend being drunk, that’s for sure, far less sickness and vomiting, but Prompto’s got this far-off look in his eyes, and he’s inclined to break into a fit of giggles or dramatics at any moment, as Not has learned in the past few hours.

 

“No. _No.”_ Prompto shakes his head, and he fixes Noct with a look that, goddamnit, makes his heart melt. Big wide blue eyes, still rimmed with a bit of redness, flushed cheeks, hair a mess from spending half the night wedged up against Noct’s chest. “I don’t wanna sleep alone. Your bed’s nice and comfy. C’mon Noct? Please?”

 

“Fine,” Noctis sighs, not in the mood to argue. They’ve shared a bed before. They haven’t since that night last week though, when they’d messed around, and even then, Noct didn’t think it was a full night together, since Prompto had been gone when he’d woken. It doesn’t need to be weird though, right? They’re best friends. Besides, right now, Prompto is _gone,_ and Noctis isn’t, so he’s fully intending to be the responsible one.

 

Noctis lets Prompto drag him over to the bed, and his friend’s kicking off his socks and his shirt and is crawling into bed in nothing but his shorts. Great.

 

“Your bed,” Prompto sighs happily, burying his face in Noct’s pillow, “Is so comfortable. I love this bed. Noct,” and he’s very seriously lifting his face just enough to peer at Noct, who is climbing in next to him, still wearing his t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. “Noct. You’re the best friend in the whole world.”

 

“Right now, I damn well better be,” Noctis is grumbling, but he’s masking a smile, glad that it’s dark enough that Prompto can’t see him flushing. He gives Prompto a bit of a shove, pushing him from the center of the bed more to the side, and he settles in, fumbles a bit in the darkness to find the cord for his phone, plugs it in, and sets it on the bedside table.

 

There’s silence, blessed silence, and Noct feels himself starting to nod off. He’s got just enough high left in him that it’s really comfortable, his mattress is soft and warm and cushions his body perfectly, there’s no noise except for the faint sounds of the occasional car driving by filtering in through the open window, the sound of the wind, a few creaks of the old building settling around them.

 

“Noct?” Prompto’s talking again, and his voice is quieter now, has lost some of the overexcited quality to it.

  
“Mmm?” Noct’s still in that half-asleep place, and Prompto’s voice hasn’t quite roused him from it. He does manage to lift his head a little, and Prompto’s face is close, hovering inches away. Prompto looks sleepy, too, which is a relief to Noct – he was worried he’d end up bouncing off the walls all night.

 

“That thing. That Aranea said.”

 

“You’re still thinking about that?” Noctis groans. He’d hoped, honestly, that Prompto would forget all of that, since he’d been pretty gone when it had happened. “She doesn’t actually know. She was just teasing.”

 

“She _knew_ we’re virgins,” Prompto insists, and there’s an urgency rising in his voice. “Noct. We gotta fix that. We gotta do it again.”

 

Again. Oh. Noct’s eyes widen slightly. Okay, so they haven’t talked, really, about the whole thing they did last week. It’d been part of that stupid drunken pact they’d made. And really, Noctis had assumed it’d be a one-off kind of thing. They hadn’t had sex or anything, just… gotten it out of their systems, gotten in some experience, right? Not that Noct is opposed to doing it again. His stomach does a little flip though, because Prompto’s definitely not sober, and unfortunately Noctis is too sober to contemplate it for real.

 

“You’re high, Prompto,” Noctis says, deflated. “We’ll… talk about this in the morning, if you want.”

 

“I’m high but I do know how to say _no,_ Noct,” Prompto sighs as well though, because he recognizes that tone. It’s Noct’s ‘no nonsense’ voice, and even though Prompto can usually convince his best friend to follow him to the end of the world and back, when Noct settles on something enough to use that particular tone of voice, there’s no point in pushing it. Noctis doesn’t bring it out often, but right now he sure as hell is. He won’t be responsible for making their friendship weird. He’s not going to take advantage of this.

 

Before Noct can say anything else though, Prompto leans in, quick and sudden, and steals a kiss from his lips. There’s no heat to it though, just a soft press of warmth, a bit of pressure, and Prompto’s blushing as he pulls away. “Sorry,” Prompto manages a quiet little laugh, and he shifts to his stomach, presses his face into a pillow, “it’s just. You’re a good guy, Noct.”

 

Noctis isn’t quite so sure. He rolls onto his back and frowns, staring up at the ceiling. His stomach is doing flip-flops and Noct doesn’t quite know why, but something is off here. Something is… really bad, but really good too. “Go to sleep, Prompto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to hold off on posting this for a while but i like internet validation more. we're almost caught up on what i've written, so updates will be slower going forward. esp since it's now almost april, the month where my lack of social life explodes and i become a Very Busy Person for a few weeks. anyway, i'll try to keep pushing it out and may have to stick to an actual update schedule or something, assuming my shitty college au hasn't scared y'all off. <3
> 
> for the record, this chapter is inspired by last thanksgiving, when we all got way too high for grown adults with real careers and families and such. good times.


	5. Maybe This Will Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then let’s talk,” Noctis shrugs and he manages to keep it together, to stay cool. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for, here.

They don’t talk about it the next day. Why would they talk about it? The moment’s passed, for now. The one thing Noct has decided he likes about this whole ‘magic brownie’ situation is the complete lack of hangover in the morning. He’s a little tired, yeah, but that’s probably because he actually gets up shortly past noon. Prompto’s realized that he totally forgot about the job applications, and he has them spread out on the kitchen table in a big mess, and he’s working through them as Noct throws some bread in the toaster, smears it with Nutella, and perches on the kitchen table to watch.

 

“So you’re serious about this job thing?” Noct is getting crumbs everywhere. He doesn’t care.

 

“I told you I was,” Prompto looks very serious. He also looks mildly stressed out, more than a little confused, “I forgot to ask Ignis for help.”

 

“You forgot a lot of things last night,” Noctis offers up. Prompto groans and glares in his best friend’s direction. 

 

“Don’t remind me,” Prompto throws a pen at Noct’s head. Noctis dodges it, and jumps down off the counter, though he pauses, looks over Prompto’s shoulder at some of the applications spread out before him.

 

“QA tester for video games?” Now that catches Noct’s eye. They pay people to play video games? That’s right up his alley. “Where’d you find that?”

 

“I told you,” Prompto huffs, but he leans back in his chair, tips his head back and catches Noct’s eye, “I stopped in at the college. They have a career centers with job postings. You really should go, Noct.”

 

“Or I can go back to bed,” Noctis decides. He crams the remnants of his toast in his mouth, stops and rummages through the fridge for a soda, and retreats back to his bedroom. He’s glad that things aren’t weird. That neither of them brought up the conversation they’d had the previous night. Prompto probably doesn’t even remember it. But Noct’s bed feels awfully big when it’s just him. Weird.

 

\---

 

Ignorance is bliss. Noct is pretty ignorant, too. Unfortunately – or, well, maybe fortunately, depending on perspective – it does come up. It’s a few days later, and Prompto is losing his shit, because he just got a phone call to go for a job interview.

 

Noct’s happy for him, but, okay, Prompto kinda needs to calm down. He debates offering Prompto one of those brownies. They haven’t touched them since that night because… yeah, as much fun as that had been, it’s not really Noct’s cup of tea. He’s too introverted as is, he doesn’t need to be even more stuck in his head. And Prompto? Well, he seemed to appreciate that they still had some left. That is, until Gladio’s video messages, and a series of really awkward snaps came in from Aranea (“why did you even add her on Snapchat?” Noct shakes his head, because that just sounds like a bad idea) and Prompto’s decided he is done with making an idiot of himself.

 

“What should I _wear?”_  Prompto is pacing across the living room. Noct’s leaning to the side, trying to get a good view of the television every time his friend crosses his line of vision. He’s not watching anything in particular, more flipping through his Netflix queue, wondering why the hell he added half of these things? The answer is that he didn’t, Prompto’s been sharing his account for years now, and that really speaks incredible amounts to what level of friendship they have, here. His recommendations are totally messed up.

 

“I dunno. Ask Ignis,” Noct shrugs. Noct has discovered the world of overpriced active wear (all in black), and he’s probably the worst person to ask for fashion advice. He went through an eyeliner phase in high school (thanks Prompto), but he’s blissfully outgrown that, and now he’s… well, he’s lucky to brush his hair some days.

 

“I’m going to be a nervous wreck,” Prompto sighs, and throws himself down onto the couch next to Noctis.

 

“ _Going to be?_ ” Noct laughs though, and he nudges his elbow into Prompto, a little teasing act. “You’re already having an aneurism and you got the call ten minutes ago.”

 

“Right,” Prompto fidgets a little, picks at the edge of the couch cushion, and then stretches his arms over his head. “Sorry, Noct. You’re right. I’m probably driving you insane.”

 

“Nah,” Noctis shrugs, and he goes back to flicking through their video queue. Nothing looks particularly appealing, and Prompto’s still shifting awkwardly in the corner of Noct’s eye. He’s kicking one leg carelessly against the bottom of the chair, other leg crossed underneath him, shifting and fidgeting, his hands a twisting mess in his lap.

  
Goddamnit. Noctis knows this look on Prompto. It’s the ‘I’ve got something on my mind and am about to explode’ look. Noct doesn’t think it’s entirely about the job. He weighs his options here. He could ignore it, and he probably should. But… goddamnit, they’re best friends. And he’s pretty stupid, but he knows Prompto. Or so Noct wants to think he does. He sighs, puts the remote down.

 

“Talk,” Noctis says, and he rests an elbow on the arm of the couch, props his chin in his hand and tips his face to look at Prompto properly. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” Prompto says quickly. Too quickly. He makes an anguished noise, flushes, and looks away. Noct doesn’t press it, but the silence falls over them instantly, and it’s a heavy, awkward one. None of the usual casual atmosphere that they’re used to – something very different, very… bizarre. This is so weird. Noctis doesn’t push it, but he doesn’t have to, because Prompto finally leans into Noctis a little, apprehensive.

 

“Okay. You said… we could talk about it. And then we just _didn’t,_ ” Prompto admits, quiet, and his cheeks are red, but he gives Noct a look that is all stubborn determination. Noct’s well aware that they didn’t talk about it. There hadn’t really been any need to. It was, what? Silly intoxicated rambling? Noctis doesn’t know. He thinks about it now though, really quickly running it through his head like this isn’t something he’s been thinking of way too much lately. He’s not… opposed to the idea of it. It was nice, the first time. They’re friends, and they care about each other. And okay, it felt nice too. It’s probably better with a girl, but whatever gets them there, right?

 

“Then let’s talk,” Noctis shrugs and he manages to keep it together, to stay cool. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for, here. That Prompto wants to give it another try? It’s… yeah, Noct’s definitely interested in that. He doesn’t want to think too much on it though, because Prompto probably is just obsessing over Aranea’s comment.

 

“Right,” Prompto pauses, and there’s silence again for a minute, as he thinks it over too. It’s not quite as awkward a silence, but it’s still not entirely right. “Okay. I… _Noct._ ” He’s stumbling over the words, but the way he says Noct’s name… yeah, that has Noctis interested. He’s leaning forward, instinctively pressing closer to his friend, and there’s something that’s happening between them. Some weird shift taking place.

 

“Do you wanna just… do it again?” Prompto finally blurts out, and it breaks the reverie somewhat, snaps them back to reality. Back to the real world, where it’s the two of them, sitting on the couch in the living room, talking in really vague terms about what, getting each other off? The words take Noctis by surprise, though they shouldn’t. After all, this is all Noct’s idea. And Noct’s the one who initiated it the last time, too. Noctis wonders if he should be concerned that his stomach twists with Prompto’s words, that his heart is already starting to pound in his chest. He should probably be concerned, because they’re best friends, and this is just something casual they’re doing to help each other out.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Noctis says, instead, and he reaches over, tugs Prompto in to straddle his lap. It’s easy, because Prompto’s eager and moves with him, sitting back to straddle Noct’s thighs. His arms loop around Noct’s neck, and their eyes meet, vivid and bright. It’s early afternoon, and there’s none of the darkness of the first time. They’ve got the curtains drawn, and the lights are off, but enough natural light’s flowing through that Noct can see every individual freckle that dots Prompto’s cheeks. This close, he can make out the long line of lashes, the way Prompto’s lips twitch as he leans in, the faint flush that’s spreading.

 

This time, too, when they kiss, it’s not quite as awkward as it had been before. The angle still isn’t right. Their noses bump, and Noct laughs quiet and low and they try again, and this time it’s better. Prompto tastes good. He hasn’t smoked today, apparently, or if he has, it’s all been washed away by the faintly bitter afterhints of coffee that he adds too much cream and sugar to. Noct’s pretty sure he tastes like cereal (cocoa puffs, if anyone cares), and he wonders if he should feel self-conscious, since he definitely hasn’t brushed his teeth yet today. 

 

Noctis quickly decides he doesn’t care though, when Prompto takes the initiative and his tongue swipes over Noct’s bottom lip. The kiss deepens, and their lips are melding together, hot and wet. Noct’s not really sure what to do with his hands, but they end up circling Prompto’s waist. A hand slips up under the back of his shirt, and Prompto makes a soft, surprised noise into Noct’s mouth, but he doesn’t withdraw – if anything, he presses closer. It’s good, and the heat is building between them, slow and steady, a bit less frenzied this time, but just as satisfying.

 

“Noct,” Prompto’s mumbling against Noct’s lips as they part, chests heaving a little. Noct’s mind is starting to spin, but at the same time, he’s seeing it all in extreme clarity. Prompto’s half-hard already, pressed up against Noct, and fuck, Noctis is too. He rocks his hips in, and the contact is all delicious friction, draws a sigh from Noct’s lips, and a quiet gasp from Prompto’s. Noct takes advantage of the brief pause to tug Prompto’s shirt off over his head, and his eyes roam greedily over his best friend, across thick tan-lines from all the running he does, down down a paler, lean torso, dotted occasionally with silvery faded stretch marks along his hips, faded so light across slightly defined abs that it makes Noct’s mouth water, makes him want to get his lips all over his friend. Is that weird? Maybe it’s a little weird.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Prompto’s blushing, and for a moment he lifts away, reaches for his discarded shirt, which Noct’s tossed onto the couch beside them. Did they go too far? Noctis wonders vaguely if they need to set up some rules, some sort of boundaries. This is all part of their weird ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Hell, Noct isn’t even sure if he’s ready to call it friends with benefits, because that implies what, he’s getting some great benefit out of this? Noct’s not sure. It’s just getting past all the awkward fumbling parts with someone he trusts, right?

 

“You look good,” Noctis says. What he means to say is that he’s sorry if taking shirts off makes it too ‘gay’ but that word is a little terrifying, especially when he’s a decidedly straight teenage boy with his half-naked friend sitting in his lap, making his cock twitch from half-interested to most definitely hard and eager and full of life. Probably the ‘look good’ comment is safer, if not… well, the exact opposite of his intended words.

 

Prompto opens his mouth to say something else, but Noctis doesn’t give him the opportunity. He’s leaning in, and the kisses he lays down Prompto’s jaw are enthusiastic, but really messy, more displaced saliva than anything else. It doesn’t matter though, because Prompto shudders, tips his head back, and he’s sensitive there, so it doesn’t matter that Noct isn’t quite getting it right. And it seems he doesn’t care about his exposed chest and stomach anymore, because one of Noct’s hands is stroking along his abdomen, feather-light, tentative, and Prompto doesn’t stop him. Prompto’s shirt, too, the one he’d been reaching for, falls back down onto the couch, forgotten.

 

Prompto’s ear, Noctis discovers, with a jolt of triumph that closely resembles arousal in the way it twists around in his stomach and makes him strain against his pants, is really sensitive. He read that in a shitty romance novel of Gladio’s, of all things. Noct doesn’t have any hands-on knowledge to go by, of course, which is why they’re doing this (right? Right.) in the first place. He kisses a line along Prompto’s throat though, and on a whim, drags his teeth over the lobe of Prompto’s right ear, and the _noise_ he draws out in response is proof enough.

 

 _“Noct,”_ Prompto’s saying his name again, but this time it’s definitely a distinctive whine, one that’s drawn out and full of heat and this absolutely amazing tone that makes Noct’s cock jump. Prompto’s fully hard too, and Noct can tell because his friend’s tugging Noct’s hand down from where it’s settled on his stomach to rub over the front of his jeans instead. They’re tented and there’s rigid heat underneath, and Noct wants to grab Prompto’s hips and tug them into contact again. It won’t take long, for either of them, Noct knows that His heart’s tripping in his chest, he’s needy, and goddamnit, these stupid dumb noises Prompto is making as he sucks at his earlobe _really_ shouldn’t be so nice.

 

Prompto tugs away again, and Noct’s about to take the initiative and drag their hips together, but Prompto’s too quick. He shifts, suddenly, and draws himself out of Noct’s lap. Noctis groans, whether it’s from the loss of contact or the concern that he’s making this weird, taking things too far. But. Oh. Prompto’s sliding off the couch, and he’s settled nicely between Noct’s legs, and that’s a good sight. Noctis decides, immediately, that he likes the image of his best friend kneeled before him, messy blonde spikes leaning in close. Prompto’s pushing Noct’s t-shirt up his stomach, getting his hands over a toned abdomen that is 100% the result of a combination of Gladio’s efforts and ‘good’ genes that makes it so hard for Noct to gain weight that he can eat donuts and sugary cereal and still have damn well-defined muscle.

 

“Not fair,” Prompto mumbles in response to… well, probably just that, that Noctis absolutely manages to be really hot without even realizing it, under all the stupid lazy black clothing he wears. “Noct,” and now Prompto’s hands are drifting lower, fingers playing lightly over the waistband of Noct’s lulu studio pants, “is this okay?”

 

It’s probably not okay. Noct hesitates. He thinks, vaguely, that they probably don’t need to learn how to jerk a guy off to get experience with the ‘ladies.’ Though, well, Prompto’s mentioned he could go either way. And Noctis, being on the receiving end? Well this wasn’t super gay or anything. Prompto has nice hands, and his head down there, his chin currently resting on top of Noct’s thigh, his fingers playing just barely under the band of his pants? It looks nice, feels nice; it’s really nice.

 

“Yeah,” Noct sighs, and he lifts his hips up off the couch a little, gives Prompto room to tug them down his hips to bunch at his thighs. He’s commando underneath the pants, and Prompto makes another one of those little, happy noises when he realizes the fact. Noct almost feels the instinctive urge to cover himself up but – well, if he’s being honest, he and Prompto have seen each other naked before. This isn’t any different, right? Nevermind that he’s hard and flushed, his erection springing to life now that it’s freed, settling heavily against his belly. Or that the way Prompto is looking at him is really damn hot, makes Noct feel like he’s the most powerful person in the world.

 

Noct’s not sure what he’s given permission for Prompto to do. He definitely doesn’t stop his friend though, as he curls a hand around his erection, gives his cock a good stroke or two. The strokes are awkward. “You feel different,” Prompto laughs out, acknowledging this. Noct supposes it’s different, touching someone else. They like slightly different things, that much is obvious, because Prompto’s grip is just a little too rough, tightening in not quite the right places.

 

“Looser,” Noct hisses out between clenched teeth, and he’s fighting a war in his head, debating if he wants to toss his head back against the couch and enjoy it, or if he wants to look down, to watch Prompto as he touches him. The second option is infinitely more appealing, but it’s dangerous too, feels… really intimate. Too intimate, maybe.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto adjusts the grip, and this time it’s nicer. Especailly when Prompto gives a little twist of his fist when he strokes over the head of Noct’s cock. Noct doesn’t bother to hide the quiet moan – he probably can’t hold it back, even if he had tried – and Prompto picks up on it. His friend is a fast learner, always has been, and he’s always been good with hands-on stuff, and it doesn’t take Prompto very long to learn that Noct likes steady, but even strokes, likes a little flick of the wrist at the tip, likes the thumb pressed up against the slit of his leaking cock. Noct’s in fucking heaven, because having someone else’s hand on him? It’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

 

He settles back against the couch with his eyes half-shut, lazily watching Prompto with half-seeing eyes. It’s some sort of mental compromise with himself. From this angle, slightly blurry, he can picture Prompto’s features are slightly more feminine if he wants. If he wants to pretend it’s a girl. He really isn’t though, because (and Noct isn’t admitting this part to himself) a good deal of the appeal is the fact that this is Prompto doing this to him.

 

Luckily, Noct isn’t focusing on any of that part. Especially when Prompto gets brave, when he shifts his grip a little, fingers wrapping around the base of Noct’s cock. His face shifts closer, and there’s hot breath against equally hot flesh, and _holy fuck,_ there’s wetness swiping over the head of his cock as Prompto goes in for an experimental lick.

 

 _“Fuck,”_ Noct probably shouldn’t buck his hips up like that, should try and stay steady, but that’s really good, and he wants more. “Prom, do that again,” and there’s a little hint of commanding there, but mostly just pleading. Noct’s been careful not to touch Prompto too much – there’s still a bit of lingering weirdness along the lines of ‘what to do with my hands’ – and he’s had his hands fisted at his sides. Now though, he lifts a hand, tangles it in Prompto’s hair, and just holds it there, not directing or commanding, but a silent plea. It says the words Noct’s not capable of saying, really.

 

“Mmm,” Prompto makes a noncommittal noise, but he’s moving in again, and this time his lips wrap fully around Noct’s cock, taking him in. One of Prompto’s hands is settling on Noct’s hip though, still relatively light, but enough to keep his hips pressed against the couch, to keep Noct from bucking up and choking him. That other hand is stroking at the base of his erection still, and Prompto gets a little braver, starts bobbing his head. And fuck, Noct breaks the pact with himself, immediately forgets his internal compromise, because he can’t fucking stop staring at Prompto’s head down there, moving between his legs.

 

It’s a horrendously bad blowjob. Prompto can’t quite get the pacing right. The hand wrapped around his cock is moving faster than Prompto’s face is moving over the tip of his erection, and it creates a weird sensation, one that has Noct shifting and making strange, choked noises. He’s so fucking inexperienced though, that any blowjob is absolutely _phenomenal._ Prompto’s messy, has no idea how to hollow his cheeks really, doesn’t know how to swallow when he goes down, so there’s saliva leaking down around his lips, over his chin, pooling messily at the base of Noct’s cock. Prompto’s making soft messy, wet noises every time he drags his lips over Noct’s cock, and he’s sort of meeting his hand in the middle, but still the pace is bad, uneven, some strokes going all the way up to the tip as he withdraws, other times Prompto’s fucking accidentally choking himself when Noct’s cock bumps too far back, when he gets too eager and goes down too far.

 

It doesn’t matter though, because Noct doesn’t have anything else to compare it with. He’s also got hair-trigger hormones, and he’s been ready to come ever since they started kissing. It only takes a couple of minutes, really. “Prompto,” Noct gasps out, and the hand that’s settled in Prompto’s hair is tugging, pulling his face up and off his erection, because he’s right on the edge. The need has spiraled up into a desperate knot that’s quickly coming undone in his stomach, his cock is hard and twitching, and –

 

Prompto lifts his head up as Noct’s orgasm hits up, the first spurt of his release smacking him square on in the chin. And, fuck, Noct should be embarrassed that he came so fast – but he’s lost, his back is snapping off the couch, his stomach is clenching, and he makes a huge mess over Prompto’s face, coming hard over his chin, his lips, thick white stripes over his cheek.

 

“Fuck,” Noct collapses, boneless, against the couch. His vision is shifting in and out of focus, and Prompto’s face is drifting before him, and Noct flushes bright as he realizes he’s made a huge fucking mess. “Sorry.”

 

Prompto’s smiling though, and he drags a finger through the mess on his cheek, licks at it experimentally, and makes a face that Noct can’t quite decipher. It makes his cock, wet and spent and leaking come still, twitch half-heartedly against his belly. “Not bad,” Prompto laughs, though as he crawls back onto the couch, he reaches for his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe his face clean.

 

Prompto’s still painfully hard, Noct can make that much out. It doesn’t take long, though. He’s still catching his breath as he leans in and kisses Prompto. Noct thinks can taste himself lingering on Prompto’s lips, it’s bitter and musky and salty, and he doesn’t think he likes it. But it doesn’t stop him from swiping his tongue into Prompto’s mouth, from tangling their mouths into an intimate dance. Underneath that weird bitterness though, Prompto still tastes like Prompto, and Noct likes it. It’s a good enough distraction that he doesn’t feel weird when he slips a hand into Prompto’s pants, when he curls his fingers around his hard cock.

 

It definitely is a little strange though. Like stroking himself, but different. Noct’s not dumb, either. He’s dumb about emotions, and about figuring out what the hell is happening in his own mind. But he remembers that Prompto had touched him rough and fast, and Noctis does his best to mimic that touch, stroking Prompto with quick, hard jerks, thumbing over the sensitive vein on the underside. He doesn’t have a whole lot of room to work with, because Prompto’s still got his jeans mostly on. There’s a shift though, Prompto’s hips lifting and the jeans and his underwear bunching down his thighs, and that makes it easier.

 

It really doesn’t take long, either. Prompto’s so fucking worked up from giving Noct that bad blowjob. Or maybe Noct’s just naturally talented at touching him. Probably the first option. Whatever it is, they’re kissing, hard and fast and desperate, Prompto’s got an arm locked around Noct’s neck, the other hand braced back against the couch. Noct’s hand works hot and fast between them, rough strokes, thumbing over the precum slicked head. They only stay like this for a couple of minutes, and then Prompto breaks the kiss to keen out Noct’s name, his body arching, hips rocking up, and there’s wetness spurting over Noct’s hand between them, making a mess of Prompto’s belly, spattering over the shirt Noct’s still wearing.

 

“Fuck,” Noct stokes Prompto through his release, until his friend is violently trembling, until he shifts a hand between them to tug Noct’s fingers away from his oversensitive softening length. Noct twines their fingers together, doesn’t care that it’s making a fucking mess of Prompto’s hand, because he’s sticky and wet with his come. They stay there for a second, panting for breath, and again, Noct wants to go in for another kiss. Their lips are close, their breath is practically shared.

 

But Noct realizes how intimate the position is. Their chests are nearly pressed together, their foreheads _are,_ and they’ve got their sticky-wet fingers laced together. Noctis shifts away, untangles their hands, wipes his fingers off on the bottom of his shirt. It’s already ruined anyway, streaked with come and damp with sweat. Noct’s not sure what the hell just happened, but now that the haze is fading away, he’s realizing that having his hand wrapped around his best friend’s dick feels way too good.

 

“It definitely counted that time,” Noctis says, breaking the silence with a quiet laugh.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, but his hand is groping for Noct’s again, even as Noctis slowly eases himself back against the couch, puts a bit of distance between them. Noct doesn’t say anything there, but he lets Prompto take his hand again, and this time, even though it’s not necessarily _weird,_ there’s a bit of concern about how nice it feels to have their fingers laced, now that it’s over. It feels good.

 

“Thanks, Noct,” Prompto adds, breathless, and all Noctis can do is nod, chest heaving, as he tugs his pants back up and tucks himself back in. He needs a shower. They both do. There’s an urge to ask Prompto if they should take one together, but Noct swiftly shifts that thought aside. It’s up to him, after all, to make sure it stays this way, good, and normal, and decidedly not weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i was going to pace out posting this, but i obviously am not doing that. i mostly wanted to give y'all porn because you've been dealing with my shitty college AU antics. this story writes itself anyway. 
> 
> headcanon: noctis is totally that dude that wears lululemon 24/7, i have been sold on that fact ever since i realized how much my black lulu studio crops resemble noct's dumb default outfit pants. try and take that one from me, YOU CAN'T. 
> 
> life gets busy on tuesday (shhh persona 5....) thru til april 24 (i'm hitting up disneyland then disney world cuz i'm an adult woo) so i'll try to pump out content like once a week or so, but def won't have these near-daily updates, sorry. D:
> 
> as always, on tumblr @ destatree !


	6. Probably Should've Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You aren’t gonna make a big deal about tomorrow, right?” Noct says finally, and he closes his eyes as he says it, because he realizes he’s really fucking self-conscious for… unknown reasons? He can’t quite place why he feels so stressed about it. It’s almost midnight, after all, and then ‘tomorrow’ will be ‘today.’
> 
>  
> 
> “What’s tomorrow?” Prompto chirps back, but Noct knows his friend knows, and it’s all just a joke in his mind.

It’s just a normal day. Just a day like any other day.

 

Noctis tells himself that as he’s lying in bed. He’s staring up at the ceiling. In the living room, Prompto’s playing video games. The layout of their apartment, that long, wide hallway, means that sound carries really well. It’s too loud, and Noct has half a mind to pick up his phone and text his friend, to ask him to turn it down. But hell, he knew that it won’t help him fall asleep any more. He’s wide awake, and he’s anxious, and Noct doesn’t usually feel this way about things.

 

Hell his solution to problems is usually to fucking sleep them off. So being unable to sleep? He’s kinda not capable of figuring out an alternative. He’s tried all the dumb clichés. He’s already tried putting on some relaxing music, the kind Ignis used to play for him when he was younger and recovering from particularly rough surgeries. It did nothing. He took one of Prompto’s allergy pills, one that’s supposed to cause drowsiness, and apparently it’s got the opposite effect on him. They ended up freezing the brownies, because as fun as that whole thing is, neither of them are quite in the mood for _that_ again, any time soon. Right now though? Noct’s really considering going and thawing one out, because hell, anything’s better than lying here with this weird, lingering sense of impending doom.

 

Except with his luck, Noct thinks, with a long, haughty sigh, he’ll just end up paranoid and hiding under his bed, expecting the physical incarnation of all his fears and distress to pop up at him at any given moment.

 

Eventually, Noctis heaves another one of those sighs, and drags himself up out of bed. He’s naked except for a pair of boxers. He doesn’t want to get dressed. There’s a few subtle shifts that have happened between him and Prompto though, and the idea of being mostly naked is one that… well, Noct has conflicted feelings about that. It’s enough that he pauses to tug a throw blanket off the foot of his bed (he sleeps with more blankets than anyone deems necessary) and wrap it around his shoulders as he saunters out into the living room.

 

Prompto’s sprawled across the couch, and he’s playing a really stupid looking game. When the two of them play together, it’s usually someone that requires teamwork, something pretty and fun and flashy. Usually they just play Overwatch, if he’s being honest with himself. When it’s just Prompto though? He’s got an affinity for really dumb RPGs. Usually ones with convoluted plots, with a stupid love interest that dies halfway through, with some weird guy with a dumb hat that helps the party through various obstacles and then turns out to be a villain for Reasons. And, usually the protagonist dies at the end. Noctis secretly thinks his best friend has Very Bad Tastes in video games.

 

“Hey,” Prompto doesn’t look up as Noct leans in the doorway, watching. Whatever Prompto’s playing (Noct doesn’t bother to ask), it looks pretty, at least.

 

“The girl’s cute,” Noctis comments vaguely, as he wanders in and settles himself down on the couch next to Prompto, who immediately shifts over a little to make room.

 

“Stella? Yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” Prompto grins and laughs at his own stupidity there. Noctis rolls his eyes; his best friend can be such a fanboy sometimes. At least he doesn’t have one of those creepy waifu body pillows. Small blessings.

 

“More of a girlfriend than you have now,” Noct teases, and there’s a little pang of emotion there that he doesn’t understand, hasn’t understood. Either way, Prompto’s presence is a grateful distraction from what he’s been mulling over in his mind back in his bedroom. Noct shuffles a little closer, and his head finds Prompto’s shoulder as he leans in.

 

“Harsh words,” Prompto sighs, but he pauses the game for a second, looks at Noctis. “Everything okay, Noct?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis reaches over, pushes the ‘options’ button on Prompto’s controller and unpauses the game. “Don’t be concerned about me. Play your game.”

 

“Whatever, dude,” Prompto rolls his eyes, but he reaches over and snags a corner of Noct’s blanket and drags it into his lap, making himself comfortable. Noct thinks maybe he should keep himself all bundled up separately, but it doesn’t really feel weird. The only weirdness is the stupid fake-emotion he’s creating in his mind with his obsessive worrying, after all. He needs to get over it.

 

Instead, Noct watches Prompto play his game, and it’s… well, it’s pretty bad, but it could be worse. Prompto’s settled in for a full night of gaming, apparently, and Noct doesn’t really know how his best friend can do it. Noctis sleeps a good deal of time, needs at _least_ ten hours of sleep. Prompto? He can go to bed at 2 or 3 in the morning and still be up at sunrise to go for his run. On his ‘off’ days, he sleeps longer, and probably it’s just a trade-off, but Noct’s unable to function without sleep so it’s all a foreign concept to him. Prompto’s got a giant bottle of water on the coffee table in front of them, and a veggie tray with hummus. Gross. Vegetables. Noct debates getting up and getting some chips, but he’s comfortable here, so he goes without.

 

“You aren’t gonna make a big deal about tomorrow, right?” Noct says finally, and he closes his eyes as he says it, because he realizes he’s really fucking self-conscious for… unknown reasons? He can’t quite place why he feels so stressed about it. It’s almost midnight, after all, and then ‘tomorrow’ will be ‘today.’

 

“What’s tomorrow?” Prompto chirps back, but Noct knows his friend _knows,_ and it’s all just a joke in his mind.

 

“Very funny,” Noct groans. He tips his head, lets his cheek settle comfortably against Prompto’s shoulder.

 

“I thought so,” Prompto laughs a little, but he leans in too, and his head’s resting atop Noct’s now. It feels nice, warm, comforting. Maybe it’s crossing a line, since they’re best friends who mess around sometimes too, but Noct’s too content to care. He feels much better, sitting here, not facing this stupid irrational Thing alone.

 

“If you just want tomorrow to be another day, that’s what it is,” Prompto continues, and the words ease a little more of the weird flips Noct’s stomach is doing. It’s a little bit less tension, a little more steadiness to Noct’s breathing. Just another day. That sounds like a good idea.

 

Noct nods, a little vague incline of his head, because anything more requires shifting, breaking this strange comfort they’ve found together. “Just another day sounds good.”

 

“Just so you know, for honesty’s sake,” Prompto isn’t pulling away, but Noct tenses for a moment at the words, and he almost does. “I definitely asked Ignis to bake you a cake, so there’s that. Iggy talked me out of a surprise party, he knows you hate it, but… I invited him and Gladio and Aranea over for dinner,” Prompto frowns, and he moves to pause the game, thinks better of it, and keeps going, though he’s idling in the start menu now. “I can cancel that, if you want.”

 

Noctis groans, and he tips his head, buries his face in Prompto’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s finding comfort there, in breathing in the scent of his friend, in having his face pressed close. “That’s fine,” he says slowly, his voice a little muffled. And he’s – surprisingly – not just saying that because he wants to dismiss Prompto’s careful planning. Maybe it will be okay, having all his friends there. Noctis has hangups, and maybe it’s time to work past them.

 

“No gifts at least, right?” Noct already knows the answer to that, though. Prompto’s started working at the photography studio, and he just got his first paycheck the other day. He’s been going on about how excited he finally is to have some money, and Noct knows damn well where some of that money has gone.

 

“Sorry dude,” Prompto laughs a little ruefully, “though I got a gift receipt, if you want me to return it.”

 

Noctis groans again. He’s surprised though, because instead of feeling that usual dread that came with this time of year, with the whole thought of celebrating and gifts and awkward embarrassment, there’s a strange warmth spreading through him. Prompto cares enough to do all this for him, so it doesn’t matter if Noct doesn’t know how to act, how to properly thank someone, how to just… _appreciate_ the gesture, right?

 

“It’s fine,” he assures Prompto, and really, it kinda-sorta is fine.

 

“If you say so,” Prompto goes back to his game, but not before he checks his watch. “Hey. Twelve-oh-two. Happy birthday, Noct.”

 

\---

 

Noctis knew this would happen. He’s spent the better part of this year in the hospital. Chronic health problems from being born premature mean that Noct’s no stranger to hospitals. This is different though. A car accident, a subsequent coma, and a spinal injury means an extended stay. It was lonely. His dad had him flown to the best children’s hospital around, all the way in Tenebrae, far north-west of Insomnia, of Lucis itself. He shared a room with a girl named Luna, she had a brain tumor that was operable, and miraculously treatable, but Noct thought she’s very brave. His injuries, while scary, hadn’t been as severe as hers. They keep in touch, now that he’s out of the hospital. She is still there, but they write, and things look good for her, at least.

 

It means though, that his life involves a lot of physio, a lot of relearning basic motor functions, and he’s struggling a little. He tells his dad that he doesn’t want a party. Ignis tells his dad that he doesn’t want a party. His dad though, he thinks it will help. Noct knows he’s just trying to bring a sense of normalcy back to their lives. It’s always been that way. Noct’s a kid, but he realizes that his dad feels guilty. He’s really busy, way too busy to be raising a kid on his own. Noct’s mom died years ago though, he doesn’t even remember her. Really, when he thinks of a mother figure, he thinks of Ignis. Ignis is just the nephew of one of his dad’s employees, but they’re roughly around the same age (Iggy’s a few years older), and he’s been taken in as Noct’s mentor and companion.

 

So they’re here. This. Noct’s only started going back to school recently. He just got out of the wheelchair a few months ago, and he’s still shaky sometimes. He goes to physical therapy three afternoons a week. Ignis has learned some of the basic techniques, because Noct missed an appointment once and it was absolute hell afterwards.

 

He invited his entire class, and of course everyone showed up. There are a few kids who aren’t even in his class, either, who ducked in with a lavishly wrapped gift and attempt to say hi to Noctis, even though he really has absolutely no idea who they are. There’s a few parents hanging around, too, even though they’re well past the age where parents need to be chaperoning their kids to a classmate’s birthday party. More than a few enthusiastic mothers have introduced themselves to Noct’s dad. It’s horribly embarrassing. Noctis pretends he doesn’t hear the comments about “I expected fancier food”,  and “honestly, they make _how_ much money and this isn’t a catered event?”

 

He ducks out, before they can get to the whole happy birthday singing thing, the cake, the blowing out of the candles, and opening all those goddamn gifts. He doesn’t _want_ any gifts, and he wants someone to have a legitimate conversation with him that isn’t staring and talking loudly about how he’s the rich kid.

 

It’s bad enough that he’s the rich kid. Now he’s the rich kid with a limp, who was in a stupid wheelchair, a freak to be on display for all of them.

 

Noct’s out in the garden. The only good thing about this entire afternoon is that his dad didn’t try to host this awful thing at their apartment building. It’s in the reception area of one of the buildings his dad owns. They set up a projection screen for movies and stuff, but Noct… well, he’s wondering why the hell he didn’t just forget to hand out invitations? He’d rather his dad think he has no friends (accurate) than have all these phony friends show up.

 

He’s sitting on a bench outside when the other kid sidles up to him. Noct doesn’t look up at first. The other kid clears his throat, and Noct’s eyes flick upward.

  
Noctis knows this kid. Well, sort of. It’s a kid in his class. He invited the whole class, but this was one of the people he hadn’t really expected to show. Prompto, his name is. He’s a chubby little blonde kid who tries to stay unobtrusive. Noct thinks that he probably has it almost as bad as he does. People don’t bully Prompto though, as far as Noct can tell, they just… tend to ignore his existence. Really, he’s a little bit jealous. He wishes that people would ignore his existence, too.

 

“Hey,” the kid says, and he shuffles awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head.

 

“Hey,” Noct says, looking back down at the ground, scuffing at it with a shoe. “Party’s inside. There’s food and stuff. I mean, I didn’t—“ he blushes, because great, he just told a fat kid where the food was. No wonder Noctis doesn’t have any friends. He doesn’t want any, but still, he’s one hell of an aloof jerk.

 

Blonde kid. Prompto. Blushes too, shakes his head, “don’t blame you there. I-it’s okay. I just… can I sit?”

 

“Yeah,” Noct nods, and scoots over to make room for the other kid. Despite the bench having more than enough room, Prompto hesitantly sits himself down at the very far edge, as much room as possible between them.

 

“I uh,” Prompto says slowly, and he’s hunched over, looking anywhere but at Noctis through thick glasses that slip down his nose a little as he  lowers his head. “I just thought I’d wish you happy birthday.”

 

“Thanks,” Noct says, just as quiet, and he’s… well, he’s intrigued, to say the least. This kid, Prompto, he’s shy, quiet, and Noct doesn’t really know if he’s ever heard him speak before. The teachers don’t even ask him to volunteer for anything at school. He’s… well, as much of a ghost as a living, breathing kid can be. Something of an enigma. Still, there is a kindness there, something under the surface. Something… _genuine._ It’s strange, and it’s taking Noct off guard.

 

“I don’t really have anything fancy to offer,” the kid blushes, but he reaches into his bag, pulls out a small poorly wrapped gift, lumpy looking and covered with uneven seams and tape sticking off the edges. The gift paper itself has snowflakes on it, probably old Christmas wrappings. “I uh. I heard about your accident though. It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it—I wouldn’t either—but. I thought maybe this would make you feel better. Everyone should have something…” he trails off, looks thoughtful, eyes half-hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, “… meaningful. On their birthday.”

 

“Um. Yeah. Thanks,” Noctis doesn’t know what to say. He accepts the gift, and holds it awkwardly in his lap.

 

“Y’know,” the other kid, Prompto, jumps up, and in his hurry, he stumbles, falls over, and quickly picks himself up, brushing stray pebbles off his scuffed knees, “I’m sorry. Don’t uh, don’t open it in front of me. It’s… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

 

“Wait,” Noctis starts to say, but Prompto’s making his retreat, half-running, half-panting as he comes back out the way he came. Noct wants to chase after him, to tell him to stay, that this is somehow the most legitimate conversation he’s had with someone who isn’t his dad, or one of his dad’s employees, since he came home. Since he met Luna at the hospital, honestly. But Noct doesn’t give chase, he just… turns the gift around in his lap.

 

He decides to leave the party. He texts Ignis – his dad’s trusted him with a cell phone, now that he needs Ignis’s help getting to and from school, physio, other doctor’s appointments, etc -  and asks him to take him home. Ignis doesn’t lecture him about how he should stay and enjoy the party, either, because he understands. He sneaks him a slice of cake. 

 

Later, Noct’s dad comes into his room and apologizes.

 

“I know you have it hard, son,” he says, quiet, his eyes burning bright with emotion, and Noct looks away, because he doesn’t want his dad to cry. “I… I’ll do better. To protect you.” Noct shouldn’t need protecting, he wants to tell his dad. He’s old enough that he should be able to handle this. It’s not his dad’s fault he doesn’t have friends, that people want to take advantage of him, after all.

 

It’s dark out when Noctis remembers the gift that the strange boy Prompto gave him. He opens it, lying in bed, the room lit up by the lamp by his bedside. It’s a little dog plush. A shiba inu, it looks like. Noctis wonders how Prompto knew he used to have the same dog. She had passed away shortly before the car accident – Pryna, her name was – and he’d kept a picture of her at his bedside when he was in the hospital, with Luna.

 

It makes Noctis cry, but it’s not necessarily sad tears. Just… he’s a little kid still. He’s not very old, and he wants his dad to protect him from the world. And he wants a friend. And his mom. And he wants Ignis and Gladio to like him, beyond their loyalties to his dad. It’s just… these are all things Noctis can’t have.

 

Noctis doesn’t realize that the weight of the world is on him, and these are troubles that no child should have. But he clings to that stupid little dog toy, and he buries his face in the soft fur, and it’s a small comfort, at least.

 

He makes a mental note to thank Prompto for the toy, but the boy isn’t at school on Monday. Or any day that week, really. When the following week rolls around, Noctis has lost his nerve, because probably Prompto was avoiding him. Their eyes meet in the hallway once or twice, but neither of them say anything.

 

\---

 

They have a tiny little celebration in the apartment. Honestly, their dining room goes vastly unused – they have a little table tucked in the kitchen corner for every day use, after all – so it’s kinda nice to have everyone gathered there, for once. Noct invites his dad, but his father declines, insists that it’s his son’s day, that he’s growing up he should spend it with friends. He offers to come by on a day when Prompto’s working though, and Noctis accepts it, pretends he isn’t quite so excited at the prospect of seeing his father.

 

It’s him and Prompto, Ignis, Aranea, and Gladio brings his little sister Iris along, too. Noct tells his friends not to give him gifts, but they show up with them anyway. Ignis cooks dinner, and he brings a cake, and … well, it’s actually pretty okay.

  
Noctis still hates birthdays, but he decides this one isn’t too bad.

 

“Thanks, Prom,” Noct says quietly after their friends leave. They’ve got one hell of a mess to clean up, even though Ignis did most of the heavy duty stuff for them, rinsed off the dishes and loaded them in the dishwasher. Noct will probably procrastinate on it. Right now, he doesn’t care though.

 

“For what?” Prompto blinks, tips his head to look at Noctis. “It was nothing. Everyone should have something meaningful on their birthday, right Noct?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis mulls that over, thoughtfully. He’s got a really good best friend.

 

There’s a little stuffed dog packed away in Noct’s closet, and he rummages through his still half-unpacked suitcase until he finds it. It’s worn for wear, one of the eyes loose, and it’s really damn embarrassing that a freshly nineteen year old boy has a dumb stuffed toy still tucked away. Noct sleeps with it anyway.

 

He’s fast asleep, luckily, when Prompto pokes his head into his room on his way to bed. If Prompto sees that he still has the dumb toy, he doesn’t mention it to Noctis in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been sick with the stomach flu of death for 3 days and rewritten the next few chapters like 30 times during that period. i'm starting to realize i need Plot. Maybe Character Development. Oh boy this is just supposed to be porn what's happening. 
> 
> anyway <3 solid headcanon that noct's the type of guy to hate birthdays. (and yes prom's playing V-XIII how meta can i get???)


	7. First Day of Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct's always told Prompto to go for it, to stop stressing over every little thing, so now that his best friend is taking his advice, finally, why is he so fucking annoyed over this?

Noctis is not happy. He is very, very unhappy. He’s grumbling and groaning and he’s pretty sure his shirt is on backwards, and bless Prompto, but also curse him, for dragging Noct’s sorry ass out of bed.

 

It is, Noctis is very grumpily reminded, by the glowing numbers of the microwave clock, seven-oh-five in the morning. That it at _least,_ at bare minimum, five hours earlier than Noctis wakes up, ever. Prompto started trying to lure him out of bed shortly after six. It takes the better part of an hour, and even now, Noct looks barely presentable. Not that Noctis ever puts a whole lot of effort in, but now, especially. He’s wearing a grumpy scowl that’s only masked by stupid sleepiness. He’s trying to eat a piece of toast for breakfast, but his appetite is nonexistent this early, and he’s only stubbornly nibbling at the edges, even though Prompto made it for him and smeared it with copious amounts of jam and peanut butter.

 

“Noct, I swear to the astrals, if you don’t eat, Iggy will kill me,” Prompto is sighing. He’s made himself a nice cup of coffee in a travel mug, dumped a good amount of flavored creamer in it, and he’s eating some horribly healthy looking oatmeal-chia seed-yogurt-blueberry thing out of a mason jar he’d stashed in the back of the fridge. The mere thought of the textures in that thing makes Noctis shudder, and he puts his toast down on the table, scattering crumbs and sticky jam remnants across the surface.

 

“Prompto,” Noctis grumbles, “the only thing I want to do at this hour is _sleep.”_

“Not my fault they schedule all the core math classes at eight in the morning!” Prompto chirps out, and he sounds way too fucking cheerful for how goddamn early it is. Noctis has a dark, fleeting suspicion that Ignis has approved this whole living arrangement for this exact reason. Prompto is a notorious morning person, and he’s apparently very up to the job of dragging Noctis out of bed and getting him to their shared class on time. Goddamnit. Noctis even considers making a coffee for himself, except that he hates coffee. He even went to bed at a normal time the night before, his body just… it’s apparently naturally resistant to the concept of ‘early morning.’ Or morning at all.

 

“I don’t _really_ need this math class,” Noct sighs. He doesn’t even like math. He’s good at it – he just doesn’t apply himself. Ignis is probably laughing at him right now. Even though he’s not even in the room. Ignis had, after all, spent Noct’s entire senior year of high school trying to convince him to do advanced placement math classes to skip this particular credit requirement when he hit college, and Noctis thoroughly procrastinated on doing just that. And now here he is, forced to learn it at eight in the fucking morning. He’s going to die over the next four months. Even if it’s only twice a week. He’s going to die.

 

“You do, buddy, sorry!” Prompto doesn’t sound sorry at all as he crams the last of his gross looking oatmeal into his mouth. He stands up, rinses the jar out in the sink, and leaves it there, before glancing over his shoulder at his best friend. “Noct. _Eat._ Dude if I had your metabolism, I’d be eating an entire fuckin’ pizza for breakfast.”

 

“’m not hungry,” Noct looks down, sullen and grumpy, at his half-eaten single slice of toast. He’s tired. His whole body hurts. He wants to crawl back into bed. Instead, Noct leaves it there, stands up to gather his bag (which Prompto has packed for him because Noct’s morning capabilities consist of… well, he’s gotten himself from the bedroom to the kitchen, and that’s a damn miracle) and his jacket.

 

“Whatever dude. You’re buying lunch then,” Prompto hovers though, cleans up Noct’s half-eaten sad breakfast, tosses it in the trash, and wipes his hands clean of stickiness.

 

“Not buying lunch cuz I’m going back to bed when this is over,” Noctis decides with a sigh. He’s got a four hour break between this class (eight to ten every Tuesday and Thursday, what evil person created this schedule?) and his next one at two in the afternoon. He’s also got a Wednesday afternoon class, a Wednesday evening one, and a late morning one on Mondays that seems challenging enough as well, though not as bad as this hell that is early Thursday morning.

 

“Nope,” Prompto’s hovering close again, and his hands are warm through Noct’s shirt as he pauses to brush crumbs off his best friend’s shirt. “You aren’t going back to bed, because then you won’t wake up in time for your next class. I _know_ you, Noct. Now. Arms up.”

 

Noctis wants to retort that he’s not a fucking child, that he doesn’t need Prompto looking after him. However, there’s kinda the fact that he has his shirt on backwards and Prompto is currently tugging it over his head, fixing it, and slipping it back on. Kinda hard to come up with a solid comeback when he’s standing there, swaying a little, eyes thick with sleep, being dressed by his best friend like he is, indeed, a toddler. Goddamnit. His best friend’s fingers brush over his chest, and there’s a little wave of heat that ripples through him. It’s just because he’s tired, and there’s still a morning chill hanging in the air.

 

“Better,” Prompto grins, and it’s definitely Noct’s imagination when his best friend’s fingers linger just a moment. “Let’s go sleepy butt. Gotta give ourselves lots of time to find the classroom.”

 

It’s a miracle that they make it on time. They’re almost late, even giving themselves nearly a full hour to get there. The campus is only a few blocks away, about a fifteen minute walk, but Noct’s dragging his feet and grumbling and at one point, he decides he wants to go back to bed and stops and refuses to go any further. It takes a whole lot of Prompto pointing out that Ignis will _murder_ him if he gets dropped from the class for no-showing the first day, and a little bit of Prompto pointing out that his father, subsequently will kill him. Noct’s stomach drops at that thought, because his dad won’t kill him, but Noct knows that certain disappointed look he’ll get, and that forces him to keep trudging along.

 

Then they get lost finding their classroom, because Noct’s half asleep and not paying a whiff of attention, and Prompto’s awful with directions. Absolute shit with directions, because he definitely already went to campus and mapped out exactly where their classrooms were located, and it’s done no good at all. They still end up in the wrong building. Then they’re on the wrong floor, because the building’s built into a hill and apparently ‘floor 1’ is underground from the entrance they take. But, with five minutes to spare, they find their way in. There’s even two seats next to each other left, in the far corner of the near-full lecture hall.

 

“This is gonna be one of those classes,” Prompto sighs, and Noct knows it’s because his friend is trash with numbers that aren’t calories being tracked in a fitness app, and it’s true, a one-hundred seat lecture hall doesn’t seem like the most conductive way to learn pre-calc or whatever this class is.

 

Noctis largely zones out during the first lecture. Their professor drones on, and does the typical first-day verbal roll call, which involves reading off a really long list of something like eighty people, to ensure that nobody’s signing the attendance sheet for a friend. Noct’s name is one of the first ones, luckily, bless alphabetical order, because he’s already half-asleep and it still takes a sharp elbowing from Prompto to get him to straighten a little and lazily affirm his presence.

 

“Glad I got up to listen to a buncha names and a syllabus review,” Noctis sighs, and it’s taking all his efforts to keep his head up off the desk. That probably looks bad, if he’s outright napping. Not that Noctis _really_ cares what other people think, but he doesn’t like attention, and Ignis has already warned him that napping in class will probably get him publicly called out. That’s a strong enough motivator, at least.

 

“I told you,” Prompto mumbles back, trying to keep his voice low as their professor drones on about due dates and ‘yes that means it’s due then, by the start of class, no you can’t hand it in at the end of class, no I won’t give extensions, no your parents calling me won’t change that.’ Prompto looks almost as bored, though he’s far more awake. Noctis suspects his friend has some form of attention deficit disorder or something, because he’s always so fidgety, can never quite sit still, and right now he’s tapping his foot against Noct’s thigh, right above the knee, and it’s awkward but… okay, kinda nice, and he’s not complaining, and that’s a weird thing, isn’t it? “You gotta show up for the first day or they kick you,” and yes, Noctis knows that, because Prompto (and Ignis, too) already lectured that point.

 

“Whatever,” Noctis grumbles, and he decides to look around, because he is very capable of reading, and some of the dumb questions people are asking about the stupid syllabus are… well, really dumb. Noctis wonders how these people made it to college if they are clearly illiterate and need elaboration on something that’s really clearly spelled out in the outline.

 

He tips his head to the side, and catches Prompto staring. Noct follows his gaze, and, oh. There’s a cute girl sitting a few rows ahead of them, just far enough to their left that they get a good view of her profile. She’s got short, curly blonde hair, plump cheeks, like her face is carrying a little too much baby fat, even though the tiny shorts and toned thighs, one leg crossed over the other, definitely suggest something other than ‘fat.’ Prompto’s definitely watching her, and Noct feels the heat spreading across his cheeks. He doesn’t know why this bothers him so much. Goddamnit. Whatever.

 

Noctis ends up actually listening to the lecture for the rest of the class, and he’s in a particularly dark mood when the class ends. He thinks it’s probably the lack of sleep. He’s really tired, and the class is ending almost an hour early, which makes Noct’s mood worse, instead of better – they’re not even starting the first lecture? The hell did he get up for? He could’ve just emailed the professor with a bullshit reason to miss so he wouldn’t get marked absent. This is the worst.

 

It does get worse though, because Prompto’s nudging Noct. “Hey. Uh. You mind waiting around for me for a bit? I want to try and get that girl’s number…” he laughs weakly, looks really flustered, and Noct very quickly starts jamming his stuff back into his bag. “I know it’ll be a disaster, but. College. New opportunities and stuff, y’know?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis says, maybe too fast. His mind’s racing a little because he can’t quite justify these _feelings,_ and he’s super fucking confused. He’s always told Prompto to _go for it,_ to stop stressing over every little thing, so now that his best friend is taking his advice, finally, why is he so fucking annoyed over this? Mostly, he decides, it’s that Prompto’s abandoning him on the first day of class, when Noctis is tired and sleep-deprived and he has five fucking hours to kill until his next class.

 

Noctis finds a bench outside their building to settle down on, and he dozes there, head on top of his backpack, staring up at the leaves on the tree branches fluttering in the wind overhead. It’s a nice day at least. The college campus is really nice, an old one, with lots of mature trees, and stretches of green between the buildings, all connected with little cobblestone walkways. It’s like stepping back in time, almost, because Insomnia itself is a large, sprawling city. Noctis decides he likes it. It’s so different from his past life, because his dad’s always busy, and even if they lived relatively modestly for their family’s wealth and status, their old high-rise condo was so different than this new, slower-paced way of life.

 

He’s over himself by the time Prompto finds him again, and he’s got a little piece of paper tucked into the corner of his binder, which he triumphantly shows to Noctis. “I can’t believe she gave me her number,” he sighs happily, “said she needs some study partners. I uh, I kinda volunteered you up as one too, Noct, so it wasn’t like I was asking her out on a date.”

 

Well, some things never change, Noctis supposes, he’s still playing wing-man to an extent. Somehow… that lightens his mood, makes him feel just a bit better. Maybe it’s good to expand his horizons too, and make a couple of new friends. Even if Noctis is pretty happy with his tiny little social circle. Hey, who knows?

 

“Whatever makes the class more interesting,” Noctis shrugs, tries to play it all off. He gets the feeling, though, as Prompto scoots down on the bench, wedges himself right under Noct’s legs, that things are maybe more complicated. Noct can’t place why he has that feeling though, just that… fuck, things are getting a little bit weird. This is growing up though, right?

 

Despite his insistence that he isn’t hungry, Noctis finds his stomach groaning in protest around eleven. It works out, though, because Prompto’s got a noon class and they have to split up, so the early lunch hour ends up working out pretty well.

 

They end up in a little café about five minutes from campus, and an added benefit is that it’s early enough that they beat the lunch crowd. Noctis texts Ignis, and his mentor is more than happy to make the time to join them – Noct still hasn’t figured out if it’s because it’s his job to cater to Noct’s whims and make sure he succeeds, or if he’s doing it out of legitimate friendship. That’s been a source of tension running in the background of their relationship all along, but Noct’s genuinely glad to see Ignis now, regardless. So maybe that’s something he’s working out, too.

 

Prompto’s been a nervous ball of energy.

 

“Did he say if Aranea’s coming?” he’s wringing his hands on the cloth napkin in his lap, looking like he’s about to jump out of his chair.

 

“He didn’t. Doubt it though,” Noct’s lazily looking over the menu, debating on what the most unhealthy thing is, because that’s exactly what he wants.

 

“She’s really pretty,” Prompto sighs, and he’s looking out the window, already having told Noct that he’s going to be good and get one of the salads, dressing on the side. Noct eye-rolled at his decision, of course.

 

“We had that discussion,” Noct rolls his eyes, yet again. “She shut you down pretty fast.” He has narrowed his choice down to some disgusting concoction of fries with gravy, cheese curds and pulled pork, or a sandwich with a whole lot of meat and cheese and some delicious dipping sauce on the side. The place is one that apparently tries to pretend it’s healthy though, and Noct is annoyed that ‘avocado toast’ is apparently a thing that’s served at lunch, and comes in a variety of combinations.

 

“I know. You don’t have to remind me,” Prompto grumbles. But he leans over the table, and lowers his voice, gives Noct a _look,_ “do you think she’ll see me any differently now?”

 

Noctis scoffs, and kicks at the table of the chair. Of course, it all comes back to this, doesn’t it? They don’t talk about it, after it happens, and they hint about it vaguely, and it’s starting to feel a little bit weird. And of course, this isn’t the place to talk about it. Not at all. That’s Prompto though – quietly hinting about ‘hey remember that time I gave you a blowjob and you jerked me off?’ over a casual lunch on their first day of school.

 

“I don’t see you any differently,” Noctis says, and, he has no fucking idea where that response comes from. Goddamnit. He looks away abruptly, and he’s the one acting weird now, isn’t he? It’s taking all his efforts to keep up the stoic expression, to keep from flushing and stumbling over more words. What the hell is wrong with him, seriously?

 

He’s lucky though, because Ignis picks that moment to show up. The door opens and a little bell chimes his arrival, and Ignis keeps his expression neutral, though he catches Noct’s eye for a moment as he enters and there’s something weird that passes between them. Noct’s not quite sure, exactly, but he feels shaken to the core, suddenly very _very_ guilty though he can’t even place why.

 

“How’s the first day of school?” Ignis is swift to start the conversation as he pulls up a chair, throws his jacket over the corner of it and settles himself down. He looks impeccable, as usual, and Noct wonders if he should care that he still definitely looks like he just rolled out of bed. He doesn’t care, though, because well, he’s still awake, and that’s an accomplishment.

  
“I hate you for making me take an _eight o’clock_ class, Ignis,” Noct wastes no time in getting into it.

 

“Funny,” Ignis smiles, and he looks pure evil, looks way too pleased with himself, “I believe I told you to get that credit out of the way last year, Noctis.”

 

Ignis is still giving him that look though, and there’s a bit of lingering weirdness.  Worse, there’s a moment where Noct catches Prompto’s eye, realizes Ignis is watching the both of them, and he dips his head down and busies himself with the menu again. Luckily, their server shows up and takes their order, and it breaks the moment. Noct settles with the disgusting plate of fries, if only because he knows Ignis will disapprove. Prompto, as usual, starts to order the salad, changes his mind, and ends up with a burger and decides that’s acceptable because he subs the fries for fruit instead, and Ignis goes for a black coffee and a pastry, because he claims to have vague plans later.

 

“So,” Ignis takes a sip of his coffee, and Noctis shudders at the mere thought of the horrid, bitter concoction, “morning class aside – good day?”

 

“Decent,” Noctis will give it that. He shrugs. “It’s weird. Different from high school.”

 

“More freedom,” Prompto adds cheerfully. “Lots of cute girls!” and he gives Noct a little nudge there, one that’s received with a groan and a well-aimed kick at Prompto’s shin.

 

“Of course,” Ignis is smiling, and his eyes are fixed on Noctis. It’s vaguely… unsettling? Ignis is always terrifying, in the most bizarre ways. "I’m certain you’re going to be placing your studies before anything _else_ though, isn’t that correct?”  


Noctis scoffs and rolls his eyes, and tries to act like Ignis’s eyes aren’t seeing right through him. Like hell he’s getting any action from any _girls._ Noctis hasn’t even glanced at a girl since he’s moved here. There’s a girl at the coffee shop he frequents with Prompto, and she definitely wrote her number on the side of the hot chocolate he ordered, but… oh hell, she’s giving him the same look all the other girls do. And he definitely, certainly, one hundred percent, isn’t getting into whatever he’s got going on with Prompto. There’s no way Ignis could ever know about that. No way he’d understand it, either. Noctis doesn’t even think he understands it.

 

The food arrives, and Ignis makes a few choice comments about Noct’s terrible eating habits – “your metabolism _will_ catch up with you one day, Noct” – and then it’s just idle chatter, a bit of advice about classes, developing good study habits, talk about Ignis’s thesis that Noctis doesn’t even pretend to understand, and Prompto nods enthusiastically over, but obviously is completely lost. It’s after Prompto’s scarfed down half his burger and a good deal of Noct’s fries that he glances at his phone, realizes the time, and jumps up.

 

“Shit! I’m gonna be late! Noct – here – “ Prompto tosses a handful of bills at his friend, and he’s half-jumping, half-falling out of his chair and dashing out of the little dinner in a maddening sprint. It’s a good thing, really, that his best friend’s a runner, because Noct checks his own phone and realizes Prompto’s got about six minutes to find his next class.

 

“As I said, Noct,” Ignis smiles lazily, taking a sip of his coffee – he’s on his second refill – and eyeing Noctis. “Time management skills are critical.”

 

“You knew he’d be late,” Noct already knows the answer there. Ignis knows _everything._

 

“It’s my job to keep you out of trouble,” Ignis shrugs. “Keeping Prompto out of trouble comes with that territory. However, a few harmless lessons here and there do a world of good. He’ll show up late and make a scene and _maybe,”_ Ignis leans forward in his chair, just slightly, and winks at Noctis, “he’ll learn a thing or two.”

 

“Iggy,” Noctis groans, and he grabs the dessert menu, because even though he didn’t finish his fries, he’s in the mood to pester his advisor even more with his bad eating habits, “you manage to sound absolutely terrifying no matter what you say.”  


“Good,” Ignis smiles, “your father wants you to call him. He wants to see you some night next week.”

 

Noct groans. “I take it back. _That’s_ terrifying.”

 

He just saw his father a few days ago, as a belated sort of birthday celebration. His dad had made the trip across town to check out his new apartment. Noctis had… well, he’d half-assed cleaned, by shoving all the stuff in his room into the closet and closing the door. Ignis had done the rest, showed up and made a quick sweep through the apartment to ensure it looked like actual humans lived there. Really, it hadn’t been _that_ bad, Prompto’s pretty good about cleaning up after himself, it’s only Noctis who is utterly hopeless. In any case – there’s really no reason for Noct’s dad to want to see him again so soon.

 

“It won’t be so bad,” Ignis is still smiling though, and it’s unsettling.

 

“Ignis. Whenever I talk to my dad through you, it’s always bad news.” Noctis wishes Ignis hadn’t told him this. His friend is… well, at the end of the day, even if Ignis is his friend, he’s paid by his dad to help Noct out. He’s bound by whatever contractual duties exist to tell Noctis the things his dad wants him to know. It’s still really weird though, and Noct’s mind immediately goes to all the worst places. Is the business failing? Is his dad sick? Did Noctis do something wrong? “… did he at least tell you what he wants?”

  
“I have no clue,” Ignis looks somewhat sincere there, at least. Noct suspects it might be the truth. “Best you call him yourself.”

 

Their server comes by, but Noct’s lost his appetite for dessert. He pays the bill, covers Ignis’s share as well (that way he can justify putting it on the card his dad pays – a business expense?) and they head their separate directions. Noct can’t quite shake his concern though, and his next class flies by in a blur. It’s the usual bullshit, anyway, attendance and a syllabus, though this professor at least attempts to cover a couple of slides on the first chapter. Noct doesn’t hear a word of it. He’s going to have to find a study buddy in the class already. Or, more likely, download the slides online and half-ass skim his way through them.

 

Ignis doesn’t answer his texts when Noct gets out of class. He doesn’t answer his phone, either. Noctis has his address though. He’s been to Iggy’s place a handful of times. He’s got dinner plans with Prompto later, but a couple of hours to kill until his friend’s done all his classes – Thursdays, apparently, are Prompto’s busy days for school. The obvious solution, Noct knows, is to call his dad and ask why he wants to see him. Instead, Noctis walks over to Ignis’s apartment. It’s only a few blocks, and Noct really just needs to… what? To vent? To push Ignis for more details?

 

He rings the bell. There’s a moment’s silence, then a shuffling, the sound of the door clicking in the lock, and –

 

It’s not Ignis. It’s definitely not Ignis. It’s Aranea, her hair down, loose and curled around her shoulders, damp like she’s had a shower. She’s wearing one of Ignis’s shirts, a long, pin-striped white button down, with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, the shirttails hanging halfway down her thighs and… Noct’s eyes bug out of his head a little bit, because he’s pretty sure she doesn’t have shorts on underneath that. Oh hell.

 

“Ignis isn’t here,” Aranea’s voice rolls out, and she clicks her tongue, looks… either amused or annoyed, Noct unfortunately can’t tell which. With Aranea, the two emotions may not be mutually exclusive. All Noctis knows is that it seems he has… oh hell. Oh no. He’s stumbled across something that he doesn’t think he wanted to particularly know about his advisor. From what he’s gathered, Aranea’s several years older, and what, in a position of power? Not that he thinks it’s possible for someone to take advantage of Ignis. It’s…

 

“Oh. Okay,” Noct says, a little lamely. He’s fidgeting at the door, and his cheeks are bright red. He’s pointedly avoiding look at Aranea. That shirt is awfully short, and a good deal of her thighs are exposed, and Noctis wonders why he feels so goddamn uncomfortable about that. “I. Uh. So, are you and Iggy…? Like. Together?”

 

Aranea laughs quietly, and she sounds _very_ satisfied. “Together? Oh goodness, you know, I’ve always assumed he’s gay. He does spend a good deal of time with Gladio, you know. And, for that matter, just as much time with _you._ ”

 

Noct makes a pained little sound, and she just laughs harder. “I have _very_ good gaydar,” Aranea adds, leaning against the frame of the door. Her shirt – Ignis’s shirt – hikes higher up her thighs. She fixes Noct with a very pointed look, and he’s definitely bright red and ducking his head down, finding the floor very interesting. Whatever the hell all of that means.

 

“I uh. Tell Iggy I came by,” Noct gets out in a rush. He turns to leave, pauses, and adds, “on second thought, can you just forget I was ever here?”

 

“Oh, I definitely won’t forget,” Aranea calls after him as Noct makes his quick retreat, “not every day I have blushing virgins ogling my thighs.”

 

Noctis feels quite ready to die, and he feels a little jolt of concern at that last comment, one that lingers even after he’s left, even as he’s making the walk back to home. Goddamn Aranea. Did they _really_ still give off that stupid virginal vibe? He… hell, he doesn’t think he should mention that to Prompto. Even though, Noct knows, he’ll totally end up mentioning it to Prompto. At the vert least, it’s gotten his mind off his dad. Who he still hasn’t called because… well, there’s no good reason he hasn’t called him. Sometimes, Noct just gets weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i wouldn't go ignea
> 
> oops, i blame tumblr. 
> 
> sorry not sorry. <3 
> 
> there will be more gay when noct stops being an emotionally stunted baby, i'm sorry. 
> 
> i rewrote this chapter like 10 times but i'm drunk so i figured why not just post it lmao.


	8. Okay, This Might be Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to think about that,” Noctis surges forward, trips over his words a little. 
> 
> “Then let’s not think about it,” Prompto is quick to throw back, but… his voice is different. It’s got the usual chirp to it, all cheer, but there’s something else, too.

Noctis, inevitably, does mention it to Prompto.

 

He manages to last, well, all through dinner at least. They go to a crappy little hole-in-the-wall noodle place that Gladio recommends (his friend, despite being incredibly disciplined, has a horrible weakness for ramen) and the entrees are dirt cheap and one is enough to feed the two of them. They sell disgustingly sweet milk tea with a mountain of boba and pudding mixed in, too.

 

Noctis lets Prompto choose the meal and he ends up spending half the time pushing assorted veggies to Prompto’s side of the plate. He doesn’t quite understand why people would ruin perfectly good noodles by adding a bunch of vegetables. There’s shrimp in it too, at least, and Noct definitely earns more than one harsh glare from Prompto when he steals one from his side of the plate. At one point, they start a mini war, spearing at each other’s chopsticks in a frantic little battle, and Noct ends up flinging a good portion of noodles over the side of the bowl. It’s a good thing it’s a place that caters to drunken college crowd because their waiter doesn’t even bat an eye.

 

Noct knows he’s acting kinda weird. Prompto’s ranting all about his first day, about how exhausting it is to jump back and forth between classes, lamenting the fact that he took a three hour long afternoon class that just drags forever.

 

“She said we can leave ten minutes early if we wanna give up our halfway break _and people said yes, Noct,_ ” Prompto’s groaning as they get their leftovers packed up. Noct won’t touch them – they’re mostly the discarded vegetables he poked over to Prompto’s side, but hey, they’re college kids, and even with Noct being allowed a monthly budget for food, he’s not about to toss away leftovers. And Noct finds it easy enough to smile at poor Prompto’s whining. His best friend is hopelessly restless at any given time – sitting still for three hours? Probably one of Prompto’s biggest nightmares. It’s a nice distraction, though, one that settles Noct’s stomach, calms down his restless mind for just a little while.

 

They make the walk home in relative silence. It’s a nice night out. It’d been a nice day, and the sun has already set, the streetlights casting a faint orange glow on everything as they walk. It’s about a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant back to their place. Noct’s playing a game on his phone as he walks, and Prompto’s carrying the bag of leftovers.

 

They go up the back steps and let themselves into the kitchen. Noct kicks his shoes off by the door and wanders into the living room while Prompto puts the leftovers away in the fridge. It’s been a long day. Noct’s exhausted, and he really should go to bed. Of course, instead, he settles down on the couch and flips on the television, instead.

 

Noct’s browsing his video queue for something to watch when the couch dips and Prompto settles down next to him. His friend curls up close, and Noct instinctively leans into it. Noctis doesn’t really want to watch much of anything. Now that they’re home, his mind is running in circles again, and he’s back to worrying. About his father, about… _fuck,_ Aranea, he’d forgotten that, too.

 

“You’re in a mood,” Prompto comments idly. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Prompto’s head is tipped against the back of the couch. His friend yawns, stretches his arms up over his head, and shuffles a little closer. He’s definitely invading Noct’s personal space but… well, Noctis doesn’t mind too much.

 

“Am not,” Noct insists, stubbornly, but it’s totally a lie, and it’s really obvious that it is, by the way his cheeks flush and he looks away. Goddamnit.

 

“Are too!” Prompto chirps the words out, but he’s tipping his head and withdrawing a little, pulling back just enough to get a good look at his friend. Noct forces his eyes up, and their gaze meets, and. Yeah. Prompto’s totally on top him. “C’mon Noct,” Prompto encourages, though his voice lowers a little, takes on a more serious tone. “You can tell me y’know.”

 

“Fine,” Noctis sighs. He’s not the type to fidget. Normally once he’s settled down, he’s a quite comfortable lump. Noct’s nervous though. His mind is racing, and he doesn’t really know what to say, or how. He shifts awkwardly on the couch, and finally, the words come out a blurted rush. “D’you think Ignis and Aranea are _together?”_

Prompto blinks, and tips his head. “Uh. Probably? Does it matter? She’s gorgeous but she’s _way_ too scary for me.”

 

“Not what I meant,” Noctis groans, and he forces his eyes away from Prompto’s, tips his head back against the couch, and lifts a hand to rub at his temple. He’s got the beginning of a headache coming on. “I stopped by Ignis’s place earlier and she was there. I think they’re… I dunno. Doing stuff.”

 

“Iggy’s a grown adult,” Prompto shrugs. “I mean, she’s terrifying, but she’s _hot._ ”

 

For some reason, the comment bothers Noctis. All of this situation bothers Noctis. Ignis is his oldest friend, his mentor and his advisor, and should be loyal to _him._ That’s an irrational thought, Noctis knows, but damnit it’s bubbling up anyway. And, more important, more pressing, is Prompto making comments about her being hot. Prompto’s not supposed to say things like that. Prompto’s his… _what?_ His best friend. Right. Noct has no idea why he’s in such a fucking shitty mood.

 

Oh, right, that’s probably why he’s in such a shitty mood.

 

“My dad wants me to call him,” Noctis says suddenly, abruptly changing the subject. That is the real issue here, isn’t it? He sighs kicks his legs up onto the coffee table, and stares up at the ceiling, pretending to be very interested in the shadows that cast up overhead.

 

Prompto leans closer, and Noct can feel his friend’s breath against his shoulder. “He’s okay, right?” his friend’s voice is a little hesitant, full of concern that makes Noct’s stomach jump to his throat. What the hell is his deal today? He’s a total mess.

 

“I dunno, I haven’t called,” Noctis sighs, and he closes his eyes, blocks out the whole world around him. “I just hate it when he does this. When he talks through Ignis. He should just call me himself if he wants to talk to me. It’s… fuck, Prom, it’s weird.”

 

It’s stupid and irrational, Noctis knows that much. It’s impossible, really, to sum up the relationship he has with his dad, though. It’s complicated, nurtured by years of vying for his dad’s attention, for his approval. His dad _is_ a good father, Noctis knows that much. He’s just… busy. His dad inherited the family business when he was young, and it’d been run to the brink of bankruptcy. It was all his dad’s efforts funneled into the company that got things up and running again. They’re successful now, wildly rich, and when it’s Noct’s turn – if it’s ever Noct’s turn – it’ll be in a good place, all thanks to his dad. His father just… hadn’t been quite in any place to raise a kid alone, especially while he was mourning the death of Noct’s mother. Ignis had ended up doing far more child-rearing than he really should have, being a kid himself. And Noctis… on a basic, logical level, he _knows_ all this. It doesn’t stop all these feelings of inadequacy, of being a small child again, desperately clinging to his father’s leg and begging him to stay home from work and play. It’s… fuck.

 

“Want me to stay with you while you call him?” Prompto asks quietly, tugging Noct out of his thoughts. The words, quite honestly, take Noct completely by surprise. He’s expecting Prompto to not quite get it, to tell Noctis that he’s making a big deal out of things. Which – well, Noct knows he definitely is making a huge deal out of nothing. It just doesn’t feel like nothing though, and he can’t reconcile that. So… yeah, those words? They mean whole lot more than they should.

 

“Maybe,” Noctis confesses, and his voice is quiet, wavers just a little as he speaks. “Not tonight, it’s too late. Maybe tomorrow,” and honestly, it feels just a _little_ less daunting. He wishes his dad could just be normal, didn’t reach out to him through his goddamn friend, who was apparently sleeping with a crazy woman, and—hell, was this adulthood? It seems so much more fucking complicated than Noctis expected. And it’s only their first day of college.

 

“I don’t want to think about that,” Noctis surges forward, trips over his words a little, but he’s certain of that much at least. He doesn’t know what he wants, if he’s being honest. But he sits up a little straighter, forces his head down to catch Prompto’s eyes – and his breath catches in his throat because his best friend is close, and he looks _good._

 

“Then let’s not think about it,” Prompto is quick to throw back, but… his voice is different. It’s got the usual chirp to it, all cheer, but there’s something else, too. There’s an undercurrent of heat, of something that makes Noct’s eyes widen slightly, that makes heat spread to… well, awkward places. There’s a moment where Noctis shifts to stand up, to announce that he’s going to bed. Because that’s the safe place to be: in bed, away from Prompto, away from the confusing rush that’s overwhelming him.

 

He doesn’t get up though. That would be the easy thing to do. Noct’s well aware that something in him is starting to shift, and he doesn’t understand it. What Noctis does know is that he wants to lean forward, to close the distance between them. He knows that Prompto’s freckles are prominent, even in the dim light of their living room. Speaking of Prompto’s freckles, there’s one under his best friend’s left eye, just off to the side, that is his absolute favourite, for some irrational reason. Prompto’s hair is falling down in his face – not enough hair gel this morning, because he was so damn busy getting Noct out of bed and to class on time. His best friend’s eyes are slightly dark around the edges because he’s tired. His lips are slightly parted, and they look really goddamn kissable.

 

Noctis isn’t even fully aware that he’s leaned in until their lips touch, and it’s a sharp jolt of electricity that courses through him on the contact. It’s stupid, and goddamnit it’s cliché, like in those dumb movies when romantic music plays, when the main character has a sudden, intense realization that this is what their life has been leading up to, this first moment of the soft heat of someone’s lips touching theirs. Okay. Well. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. But there’s definitely a strange surge in his belly. There’s the usual warmth, the one that settles between Noct’s legs, but there’s more than that. It’s a soft kiss, barely enough to be classified as that, but as they part, Prompto’s hand lifts, tangles in Noct’s hair, and he drags him back in for another one.

 

This time, it’s a more proper kiss, and they really _are_ getting better at it. There’s less fumbling, no awkward bumping of noses and foreheads and no clash of teeth. The angle is good too, Prompto’s grip in his hair not too tight, but warm, affectionate, and Noct groans quietly, parts his lips and swipes his tongue over Prompto’s lips, draws a similarly eager groan out of his friend.

 

They kiss for a while, all lazy, wet heat, curling tongues and hands roaming. There’s a steady, throbbing eagerness between Noct’s legs, and he can feel it against his thigh, too, where Prompto’s hard against him. He shifts a hand down, curls his fingers through his best friend through his pants, and Prompto gasps quietly against his lips, but he pulls away a little, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen from the make out session they’ve been heavily involved in.

 

“ ‘m too tired, Noct,” Prompto’s tone is just as reluctant as the words are. There’s a moment of discomfort, and Noct’s head spins – if Prompto doesn’t want _sex,_ why are they doing this? But it doesn’t matter, really, because Noct’s hand is moving on its own, finds the small of Prompto’s back and tugs his face back in, instead, for more of those needy kisses, though they’re a bit less heat, a bit more… something else. Fuck.

 

Eventually, they end up twined together. Noct’s lying on the couch on his back, head propped up against the cushioned armrest. Prompto’s a warm weight on top of him – not too heavy, but far too comfortable. It really is a horrendously uncomfortable position to be in. Noct’s vaguely aware that they need to get up, that he needs to go to bed or he’s going to wake up with an aching back and a sore neck. But Prompto’s cheek has settled on his chest, and Noct’s got a hand running through his hair, soft and lazy, and he’s reaching for the remote again with the other.

 

They end up half-watching some stupid thriller movie. Prompto’s eyes are closed though, and at some point he’s tugged the blanket down off the top of the couch, shifted to tuck it in around their prone, tangled bodies. Noct’s eyes are heavy, too, but he stays on the couch, fingers still shifting through his best friend’s hair, lazy, almost unconsciously, the other arm curled around his shoulders, holding him there. At some point reality shifts into dreams, and it’s all dreams of warmth and kissing and words that Noctis doesn’t even want to try to comprehend in the living world.

 

Noct’s definitely sore and aching in the morning, too, and for once in his life, the awkwardness pulls him into consciousness first. But when he shifts carefully, tugs himself out from under Prompto to limp to the bathroom for a hot shower, there’s a strange feeling of loss, one Noctis doesn’t fucking understand. He doesn’t know if he wants to, though – can he come back from this? He doesn’t know. He takes a really fucking long shower, tries to relax, tries even harder not to dwell on the mounting confusion. When he’s done his shower, Prompto’s already gotten up and rushed out the door to his Friday morning class – Noct has Fridays off – but he’s left a quick plate of fried eggs and sausage on the table, as well as a note with a hastily drawn chocobo and a heart. The strange, dizzying feeling comes back, and Noct quickly settles down to eat his breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for the short chapter. i haven't had a whole lot of time to write. <3 i fly to orlando next week for a half marathon so hopefully the plane will be conductive to writing. 
> 
> we're making... slow progress thru this monster? not really tho, lmao. i have a loose plot. this is going places. i'm just long winded and this is too fun to write, ugh, why do i love emotionally stunted idiot noctis so much?


	9. Everyone's a Little Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, this is a little weird,” Noctis says, and he pivots himself around, so he’s lying on his back, and he pulls Prompto’s face down for a kiss, a sudden and instinctive one. It’s definitely weird.

 

In the end, Noct ends up calling his dad, late in the afternoon, once Prompto’s finished classes for the day and returned to their apartment. And it didn’t go that bad. His father assured him, in that goddamn gentle, calm presence he commanded, that nothing was _wrong._ That he’d simply reached out through Ignis because he hadn’t wanted to worry his son during his first week of classes. Noct’s tongue was a little too sharp, was quick to point out that in fact that particular tactic has the opposite effect.

 

In any case, Noct makes plans to head over to his dad’s place next Friday, to talk about his first week of classes. Noct kinda wishes his dad would just come back over to his place – on the bright side, though, it means he doesn’t have to clean. Or, rather, ask Ignis to help him clean. Because that’s another issue, though Ignis texts him and asks if he’s spoken to his father, and if he knows that Noct stopped by (he most certainly must), he doesn’t mention it. Noct is grateful for that.

 

Their first week flies by uneventfully. The weekend is nice, and Noct’s appreciative that he doesn’t have Friday classes, so he gets blissful three day weekends. Unfortunately, Prompto’s working most of it, and Noct really _is_ determined to try in his classes, so he spends a good deal of time trying to get all his weekly reading done. He thinks it’s bullshit, really, that first classes comprise of ‘here’s the schedule, any questions?’ but they’re still expected to have a fucking boatload of reading done by the time they meet for their next class. College textbooks are dull, too, and he finds himself zoning off as he props open a book on the kitchen table in front of his cereal, or next to him in bed as he lounges around. He wishes Prompto didn’t work so much, though Noct’s sure if it’s just the companionship he misses, or _Prompto._ He doesn’t wanna think about that aspect of it.

 

On Sunday, Gladio stops by and drags Noct to the campus gym. It’s not nearly as nice as the private one at his dad’s condo, but it’ll do. Noct’s grateful for the company – though he’ll never admit that to his old friend – and he’s almost, _almost_ enthusiastic as he does a rough, shaky set of squats while Gladio spots him, barks out harsh encouragement of “c’mon Noct, one more rep, you got this.”

 

“You should join a real gym,” Gladio tells him as Noct racks the bar and collapses on a bench nearby, his legs shaking like fucking jelly. Noct grumbles a noncommittal response, takes a gulp of water and watches as his friend adds a set of forty fives like it’s nothing to the bar. Gladio, for all his harsh talk, knows his shit. Noct’s pretty sure Gladio could lift him over his head and toss him like he’s nothing. And even though Noct’s stronger than he looks – he’s all lean, wiry muscle, and he has trouble gaining weight, but he can squat over three hundred – Gladio is _exactly_ as strong as he looks, a solid tower of absolute muscle.

 

Noctis shrugs. There’s probably some logic there. It’s one of the expenses that he knows his dad will happily pay. They had to wait far too long for the squat rack to open, and even then, it’s because Gladio kept shooting absolutely dirty looks at the guy who was spending way more time messing with his phone than actually lifting.

 

“Maybe,” he’s noncommittal though, watches as Gladio busts out a quick set of ten squats at nearly four hundred – a warm up set for him – and moves to load the bar up more. Noct’s going to ache in the morning, and he needs to find a physical therapist on this side of the city before all his old injuries start acting up again. Even though he knows that the exercise is good for him and helps with all the old phantom aches and pains more than it hinders, he’s still regretting his choice of sleeping on the couch those few nights past. And, just thinking that – about falling asleep with Prompto that way, it sends another rush of heat through Noct’s body, makes him choke and sputter as he swallows a mouthful of water the wrong way.

 

Gladio’s hefting another set of plates onto the bar. “You got something on your mind, kid,” the words aren’t a question, and he moves to smack Noct roughly on the back to clear his throat as Noct splashes water all down his front and coughs heavily.

 

“Do not,” Noctis manages to gasp, setting what’s left of his water aside and wiping at his mouth as he shoots Gladio a dark glare.

 

“Spit it out,” Gladio’s voice is only slightly labored as he loads the bar up on his shoulders and gets to work. Noct watches, and he feels a little hint of pride – as strong as Gladio is, Noct can squat lower; he’s just more flexible, and that sort of thing has always come naturally to him.

 

“What’s the deal with Iggy and Aranea?” Noct doesn’t mean to spit the words out, but they fall from his lips unbidden, and he suddenly groans, flushes bright red, and hides his face. Noctis doesn’t know why he _cares_ so much, but he does, he still has that strange feeling of being utterly betrayed, and the damn infuriating words Aranea had spoken to him are still echoing through his head.

 

Gladio grunts as he bottoms out just below parallel and his legs are steady as he pushes back up to his feet. “Dunno. None of my business, why?”

 

Noctis shrugs. “I think they’re together.”

 

“Good for him,” Gladio goes back down with barely a pause at the top, and Noct’s eyes follow, watching his friend as he gets another rep in. “Ignis deserves a break, chasing after you all the time’s gotta be a pain in the ass.”

 

“ _Hey,_ ” Noctis grumbles, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees as he looks down at the floor. “I’m not that bad, you know.”

 

“Sure,” Gladio’s response is teasing, good-natured, and he straightens, satisfied with the rep count – how many was that? Five? Ten? Noct’s only half paying attention at this point, he’s lost count – and racks the bar again. “That’s what you’re worried about? I heard your dad wants to see you, thought maybe that’s the problem.”

 

Noctis grumbles again, lets out a heavy sigh and sinks down further on the bench. Gladio’s done his reps, which means it’s his turn, and he doesn’t want to stand up. “Why is my business _everyone_ else’s business?”

 

Gladio laughs, and he’s hoisting the extra plates off the bar, replacing them with lighter ones, a couple of fifteens, maybe? Noct’s not really watching for the details. “Because you’re hopeless, kid,” Noct opens his mouth to protest, but Gladio cuts him off with a casual wave, “or because my dad’s been glued to your father’s side since before we were born. That too.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Noct steps up to the bar. It’s heavy – Gladio’s hovering behind him, not too close, but he’s definitely keeping an eye on him. Noct hates lifting. He must’ve been pretty goddamn desperate for some human interaction, he thinks vaguely, as he shifts his stance, bounces his weight around a little, adjusts his grip, and goes down for the squat.

 

“I dunno,” he says vaguely, though the words come out somewhat choked as his legs strain to get back up. “Aranea’s… I don’t know if I should ever take her seriously.”

 

“You shouldn’t,” Gladio agrees, “doin’ good, Noct.”

 

“She said that she thought you and Iggy were messing around,” Noct’s cheeks flush, and whether it’s from the exertion of the workout or the _thought,_ the fact that he’s actually admitting that to Gladio… well, he doesn’t really know. Doesn’t care to know.

 

Gladio laughs harshly, as Noct takes a deep breath, gets ready for another rep, “that was mostly a couple of times a few years back.”

 

Mostly?

 

“ _What?!”_ and it’s a damn good thing that his friend’s so close behind him, spotting him, because Noct’s knees buckle and the bar slips and the only thing between Noct and a really fucked up back injury is Gladio’s hands locking on the bar, tugging it back, and it falls to the floor of the gym with a shattering crash. Noctis spins around, eyes narrowed. “Dude, you could’ve killed me. Don’t joke about that shit, Gladio.”

 

“Not joking,” Gladio’s laughing though, as he shifts down to grab one end of the bar, “help me rack this, Noct, you drop it, you pick it up.”

 

Noct’s staring though, eyes wide, and he’s not moving, “seriously? You ‘n Iggy?”

 

His friend shrugs, “yeah, princess. Experimental age, and all. It doesn’t affect our work relationship, don’t worry. We’re all friends, right?”

 

Noct’s still staring. He forces himself to move, crouches down and helps Gladio get the bar up off the floor and back on the rack, “I… _fuck_ , you shouldn’t just spring that on me when I’ve got four hundred pounds on my back. Fuck, Gladio.”

 

“That’s not even close to four hundred,” Gladio rolls his eyes and smacks Noct a little harshly across the back, but he’s grinning, “oh get over it, Noctis. Other people have lives, too. Besides. Maybe I’m just fucking with you,” Noct’s eyes widen and he makes a choked sound, and Gladio laughs harder.

 

“Fuck this, I’m done,” Noct groans, and he throws himself back down on the bench, knees wobbling. He’s even more fucking confused than he was before he got here. He wants to ask more – he wants to know if Gladio’s being honest with him, or if he’s just kidding. But then they’d get on the subject of _why_ it matters in the first place, and Noctis… well, he’s not ready to open up about his own problems, about his own goddamn insecurities. About the fact that he’s very much the age Gladio was ‘a few years ago’ and he needs to know, for his own fucking sanity, if it’s really that ‘normal’ and ‘experimental.’

 

“Whatever, no gains if you sit on the bench the whole time,” Gladio doesn’t seem that upset though, because he’s reloading the bar and going at it again. Maybe his friend senses that he crossed some weird invisible line, but he doesn’t bring it up again, and Noctis doesn’t pry. And this is one discussion Noct’s definitely going to try to forget, even if he obsesses about it for a while. He should talk about it. He should ask Ignis. But he won’t.

 

\---

 

“Hey Prom?”

 

Noct’s words are a little muffled. His best friend got home from work earlier, and he brought dinner, bless his fucking heart. Noctis devoured his cheeseburger – he’s especially hungry, after his time at the gym with Gladio. They’re in Prompto’s bedroom – a rare occurrence, really, since Noct’s bed is so much nicer. But, Prompto had a movie on his computer that he wanted to show Noctis, so they’re curled up on his bed, Noct’s face half-buried in his friend’s pillow while they watch the video on the computer monitor. It’s just some new movie that Prompto’s pirated, one that they both ‘kinda wanted to see’ but not enough to pay actual hard earned money for.

 

Prompto’s pillow smells good, Noctis thinks idly. It smells like his best friend, and that’s a good scent. The bed is small, a twin, so Prompto’s behind him, and he has an arm draped around Noct’s waist, his chin pressed into Noct’s shoulder. It’s stupidly comfortable and Noctis is debating taking a power nap.

 

“Hm?” Prompto makes a quiet sound, but he doesn’t shift.

 

“Is this weird?”

 

Noctis isn’t quite sure where the question comes from. He says it without thinking, and it comes out like someone else is talking, not Noct himself. Oops. But the conversation earlier – that teenage experimentation is normal? – is still running through his head. This doesn’t feel like an experiment though. It feels _nice._ Noct’s head is spinning and he’s really confused, and he doesn’t want to admit it, but he has no idea what to think anymore.

 

Prompto shifts a little. For a moment, Noct’s worried that his best friend is going to pull his arm away, but he keeps it there, a warm, heavy weight draped around him. He cranes his neck though, leans forward to get a glimpse at Noct, and their eyes meet. There’s a strange rush of heat that pools in Noct’s belly, makes his eyes widen slightly.

 

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Prompto says, carefully, but he’s biting his lip and he averts his eyes.

 

Noct hurriedly looks down at the bedspread. It’s blue with little yellow chocobos patterned all over it. Noctis is pretty sure Prompto got it in the children’s section of a cheap department store; it’s perfect, it reminds him of his best friend, and it makes him smile as he nods to himself. That’s an acceptable answer.

 

“Dude, it’s a little weird,” Noctis says, and he pivots himself around, so he’s lying on his back, and he pulls Prompto’s face down for a kiss, a sudden, instinctive one. It’s definitely weird, doing this stuff with his best friend, when he’s… well, he’s still pretty sure he’s into girls. And maybe he’s not into guys, either. Maybe he’s just into _Prompto._ That’s an acceptable compromise in Noct’s mind. It’s leaps and bounds from where he was before, maybe. Or maybe he’s been here a while.

 

“ _You’re_ weird, Noct,” Prompto’s smiling against his best friend’s lips though, and in response Noct deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps and Prompto’s mouth opens against him instinctively, and it’s hot and wet and goes straight to the tension rising between Noct’s legs. He’s hard, and Prompto is too, and it’s _different_ than usual because Noct’s on his back and Prompto’s on top, one arm braced on the bed next to Noct’s head, their hips pressed together with growing urgency.

 

“You’re the one kissing the weirdo then,” Noct groans as they part enough for them to breathe, and Noct’s lips are already kiss-swollen and his cheeks are flushed. Prompto’s cheeks are flushed, too. It’s dark outside, but his bedroom light is on. Lit from behind, it’s harder to make out his friends features; they’re all dark. But Prompto’s eyes are shining, his freckles only enhanced by the red spreading over his skin. And Prompto’s hair is already mussed. It’s irresistible really. Noct still hasn’t quite figured out what to do with his hands in all this, and he lifts one, on instinct, from where it’s clutching the blankets, to gently trace over the line of Prompto’s jaw, back to tuck a strand of messy hair behind an ear.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees breathlessly, and he sighs, presses his lips to Noct’s jaw, wet and open-mouthed and mostly saliva and tongue, tracing a line until he finds Noct’s ear. “Guess that makes me weird, too.”

 

“Mmm,” Noctis tries to agree, but Prompto’s teeth are nipping at his ear and it feels _really_ fucking good, and he’s shifting, lifting his hips up, groaning when his rock hard erection grinds up against Prompto’s. They’re both hard in their pants, just from a bit of brief making out in the too-tiny bed. Noctis thinks vaguely that it’s going to be one of _those_ nights, and yeah, it’s weird, but he doesn’t care.

 

Prompto’s lips pause for a moment at a sensitive spot on Noct’s neck. “Noct?”

 

They’re best friends, and they’re always joking around, always making idle banter, but when they shift into this weird experimental thing, this solid favor they promised they’d do for each other, it’s usually something different. There’s usually not so much talking. It’s different, it makes things a little more _real,_ and Noctis doesn’t know how he feels about it, so he lifts his head away a little. “Yeah?”

 

Prompto’s fidgeting, just a little, lips pressed over Noct’s collarbone now, but he’s not really doing any kissing, so Noct is pretty sure it’s just to keep his face buried, to look away. “Do you think all the stuff we’ve done _really_ counts?”

 

There’s a bit more shifting, and Noct’s scooting back on the bed a little. A hand finds Prompto’s hair, and he tugs his friend’s face up so their eyes meet again. For a moment, Noct wants to ask him what he means; but Prompto’s eyes are shining, and his cheeks are bright red, and _oh._ It hits Noctis like a jolt in the stomach. He’s thought about it, yeah. A few times. Maybe more than a few times. Maybe there’s been times he’s fisted his cock in the shower and thought about pressing his best friend up against the wall. A few times in bed, with his face pressed into the pillow, thinking of having Prompto behind him, working over him.

 

Just maybe.

 

Noctis shrugs, “you got that girl’s number.”

 

“I didn’t really want that girl’s number,” Prompto counters, and Noct doesn’t want to think about what that means – the words, or why there’s a rush of something that he vaguely thinks is _relief,_ or something similar to that. It’s really confusing. Noctis decides not to acknowledge that part.

 

“We could make it count,” Noctis agrees breathlessly instead, because this was his idea, right? He was the idiot who suggested this shit in the first place. How did their roles shift into Prompto being the one suggesting this, and Noctis being the stupid flustered one? He tries again. “You wanna?” and it almost sounds convincing this time, even though his voice is a little uneven, his breath catching in his chest.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Prompto’s only silent for a second, and then the words tumble out in a rush, and he’s pressing their lips together again, hips rocking urgently against Noct’s. One of Noct’s hands twines around Prompto, works under his shirt and they both sigh appreciatively at the contact of skin on skin.

 

The kisses get sloppy, needy, and they only pull away long enough to tug Prompto’s shirt off. Then there’s more heated kisses, with Noct’s hands greedily splaying over Prompto’s lower back, stroking against his spine, over old, faded stretch marks and little smatterings of freckles. Another shift, and Noct is sitting up just enough for Prompto to get his shirt off. There’s another sensation rushing through him there, as the air hits Noct’s exposed skin under his shirt. Prompto’s eyes darken appreciatively, and Noct thinks that maybe he should be self conscious; Prompto, however, is the most goddamn gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and that’s all Noct can focus on. His hands are roaming, and he’s got his fingers working between them at Prompto’s pants before Noctis can even really consciously realize it.

 

Noctis has Prompto’s pants and briefs down around his hips, a hand curled around his cock, before it registers that they’re maybe, possibly, going to do this. He thinks maybe he should be panicking – that this is crossing one of those weird invisible lines they’ve set. There might not be any coming back from this. But Prompto’s erection is hard, already dripping precum over Noct’s thumb as it swirls lazy circles over the head, and the goddamn _noises_ Prompto’s making are too good. Noctis doesn’t think he cares. His own cock definitely doesn’t, twitching and hard still in the constraints of his pants.

 

Prompto, though, seems intent on fixing that. Noct’s hips lift as Prompto’s working his loose sweatpants down, tugging them awkwardly, and Noct wiggles and shifts until they’re bunched and hanging off one leg. He’s so goddamn hard, too, and Prompto’s fingers wrap around him eagerly, give him a good, long stroke. Noct remembers that night with Prompto’s lips wrapped tight around his cock, and he almost asks him to do that again. _Almost._

 

But there’s other stuff, now. Noct’s recently taken to watching porn on the internet that isn’t necessarily boobs anymore – for _research_ purposes, of course, and a lot of those videos seem to skim over the whole process of getting from point A to B. But Google and a lot of websites (ones that Noct shamefully erases his browsing history after perusing) have kinda filled in the blanks.

 

“Prom,” Noct sighs happily, and he gives Prompto’s cock a good, rough jerk, just the way he’s learned his friend likes it. But there’s something else, a more pressing issue, “I didn’t think… I don’t have anything.”

 

Prompto’s making soft groaning noises, and Noctis fucking loves the way his friend’s cock twitches and jumps in his hand, the wet smear of precum that covers his fingers and slicks his grip. He almost wants to just keep doing this, to press their foreheads together and touch Prompto until he comes hot and messy over his fingers again.

 

“I- ah, _Noct –_ drawer,” Prompto manages to get out, and the way he says Noct’s name makes Noctis twitch and leak just as eagerly against Prompto’s fingers, which are currently fisting him slow and steady, dragging lazily over the heavy vein running up the underside of his cock.

 

Noct’s eyes widen, but he laughs, of all fucking things, quiet and lustful, as he shifts again, reaches awkwardly with his free hand to fumble in the drawer. Of course Prompto’s fucking prepared, for whatever reason. Noct can’t find it though, and Prompto breaks the contact, tugs his hand away from Noct’s cock to reach over him. It’s an awkward, quiet moment, neither of them speaking, both panting, hard and needy, until Prompto pulls out a tube of lube and a condom, places it on the bed next to them.

 

“Never done this before,” Noctis states the obvious, settling back down on the bed, propped up on his elbows, as he eyes the objects before them. It’s oddly intimidating, and Noct hopes that his eyes, dark with lust, intrigued by all of this, mask the fact that he’s really fucking nervous about this. Prompto, though, he’s not even _trying_ to mask that he’s nervous, fidgeting a little, eyes darting to meet Noct’s before shifting downward again.

 

“How do you wanna do it?” Prompto asks slowly, and Noctis has to pause and think about that. He’s pretty sure that he should be the one doing the… _stuff,_ because otherwise, well, it’s a little bit gay, isn’t it? But at the same time, Noctis has no idea what he’s doing. Prompto’s the one with the stuff, and Noct knows it’ll hurt if he fucks it up, so—

 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Noct’s voice is steady, somehow, fucking impossibly, he’s found a weird calm place, one where he can quiet his frantic thoughts, his rushing hormones, his over-eager mind. “This is all new to me.”

 

Prompto’s eyes widen a little, and he’s chewing his lip, head tipping to the side. He looks so fucking kissable. “I’ve messed around with myself some,” the confession makes his best friend flush, squirm a little, and the thought of Prompto splayed on his back on the bed, fingers wet and working into himself, makes Noct’s cock twitch heavily and surge with a new rush of arousal. Fuck. He wants that. He wants to feel Prompto do that to _him._

 

“You can, then,” Noctis says, and he makes the decision swiftly, before he can fucking regret it. This is just experimentation, right? It’s normal. Maybe a little weird, but normal people can be weird sometimes too, right?

 

Prompto’s eyes widen even more, this time, and Noct’s pretty sure it’s only half shock, the rest pure fucking arousal. “You sure?”

 

“Shut up before I change my mind,” Noctis grumbles, and he’s dragging Prompto back in for another kiss, one that swiftly pushes all words, all thoughts aside, because Prompto’s lips are hot and eager against his, and his best friend’s hand snakes between their bellies again, finds his erection and gives it a good pump, and it feels _so_ fucking good. It’s hard to be concerned about anything else, as long as Prompto keeps touching him, keeps putting his lips on him, keeps his hand stroking over sensitive skin.

 

They end up with Noctis half-sitting against the headboard of Prompto’s too-small bed, a pillow propped up behind his shoulders to keep his head from bumping. His thighs are parted, and Noct’s well aware he’s totally on display for Prompto – his aching cock hard and leaking against his toned belly, knees bent, ass tipped up just a little. It should be embarrassing, maybe, but Noct decides he sort of, maybe, likes it. Besides, Prompto’s hovering over him, sitting awkwardly on his knees. They’re still kissing, but the kisses have turned slower, more relaxed, maybe a little more affection than is outright appropriate for the situation. Prompto’s fingers are shaking a little though, as he works at the cap of the lube, fumbles to get it open.

 

“C’mere,” Noct’s voice is low, still in that strange steady place, as he reaches between them, uncaps the lube and squeezes a good amount of the liquid over Prompto’s fingers. It’s way too much, and some of it falls messy and wet onto the bed between them, but neither of them care.

 

 _“Noct,”_ Prompto’s voice is low too, and it’s still quivering a little, but his friend’s face presses into Noct’s neck, spreads kisses there, hot and needy, as Noctis guides his hand down between his legs. The touch is weird, and really strange, really fucking _foreign._ Noct hasn’t touched himself here. He’s thought about it a whole lot, especially recently, but it was too daunting, seemed too weird, and he hadn’t quite had the right supplies to do it anyway. There’s the urge to tense up, to push Prompto’s fingers away, but his friend’s wet touch is working slow, relaxing circles around the tight ring of muscle, easing away some of that urge, making Noct’s hips tilt up, making him sigh quietly and lean back against the pillow.

 

“It’s weird,” Prompto’s saying softly, lips still working on Noct’s collarbone, sucking at a spot that probably isn’t quite low enough, but feels too good for Noctis to care, “you gotta relax though, else it’s gonna hurt.”

 

“Trying to relax,” Noct manages, and really, those goddamn lips on his skin are helping, leaving wet-hot trails that go right to his erection, make it twitch against his tummy. He’s doing his best not to tense, but it still feels weird, even though the weirdness is shifting into something good, too.

 

When Prompto works the first finger in, it’s not necessarily painful – though Noct clenches a little at the weird, solid intrusiveness of it. It’s an uncomfortable full feeling, one that makes him shift and awkwardly grasp at Prompto’s shoulder because his hands need _something_ to do. He wonders, vaguely, if this is supposed to feel good.  Prompto gives him a moment to adjust, and then there’s a second finger, and that one _does_ hurt, a burning, stretching feeling as his rim is pulled open, as Prompto works him wide and open. It’s not unbearable pain, but it’s enough to leave Noctis groaning, thinking about why the hell people even do this?

 

“Calm down, dude,” Prompto says quiet, pressing a gentle kiss to Noct’s shoulder – and Noctis realizes that he’s gripping Prompto hard enough that his nails are digging in, leaving little red crescents on his skin. His hold loosens a little, and Prompto’s fingers slip deeper, work him open, and there’s a sear of pain, Noct’s hips shift, and _fuck,_ the pain is suddenly replaced with a sharp jolt of something good, something intense, that goes straight to Noct’s softening erection and jumpstarts it back into arousal.

 

“Prom—fuck—what was that?” Noct’s eyes are wide, and he’s panting for breath, shifting his hips again and pressing down on Prompto’s fingers, eager for more of that sensation. Theoretically, of course, Noct knows exactly what _that_ is. But it’s way more intense than he expected, leaves him needy and twitching and desperate for more. It’s different than having Prompto’s lips wrapped around his cock, more intimate, more full-bodied and goddamn perfect.

 

The pain is still bad, of course, but it seems like it’s almost, kinda-sorta worth it now. Prompto laughs quietly against Noct’s skin, and there’s a bit of fumbling as he stretches him and goes for the right angle again. That first little blissful brush was pure coincidence, apparently, because Noct’s wincing again at the feeling of being stretched, and Prompto’s fingers aren’t quite moving right. He’s trying to thrust them, trying to hit his prostate again, but it’s just stretching burning skin, making Noct feel full and slightly uncomfortable again.

 

“You okay?” Prompto’s voice is quiet, and Noct manages a little nod, but the nod is immediately followed by another sharp gasp when there’s a little twist of Prompto’s wrist as he tries something new, and _that,_ apparently, is the right angle for Noct to get some white-hot pressure pressed up over his prostate.

 

“Yeah,” Noct’s voice is definitely shaky, and he shifts his hips, groans again when Prompto’s fingers pull free. It’s a strange sensation there, too – relief, at the weird stretching ending, but a strange feeling of _loss,_ too. Noct wants more, he realizes, and he reaches for the condom, rips the corner open and passes it off to Prompto; there aren’t words, after all, that Noctis can possibly express to say that he wants this. Actions will have to do?

 

“You’re sure?” Prompto’s fumbling with the condom, rolls it over his prominent erection with a groan, and slicks up his hand again, giving himself a good stroke.

 

“Yeah, idiot,” Noctis grumbles. He’s nervous as all hell – those fingers _hurt,_ but he tries to relax, tips his head back, as Prompto nudges between his spread thighs, leans in close and presses a kiss right to the tip of Noct’s nose. It’s really stupid, but that dumb, little affectionate gesture makes Noct’s heart pound against his ribs, makes him smile and loosen just a little.

 

It’s still awkward. Prompto can’t get the positioning right. The first thrust of his slick cock goes right between the curve of Noct’s ass instead. The second thrust is angled right, but not hard enough, or maybe Noct’s just too tense, but he can’t quite get it in.

 

“This looks a lot easier in porn,” Prompto’s blushing, but the words make Noct laugh quietly, and he reaches up, loops an arm around Prompto’s neck, and drags his face in for a kiss. That makes it easier, too, distracts them both from this weird pressure that comes with first-time sex. It doesn’t have to be weird, right? This is normal, this is two best friends that trust each other finding companionship together. Right?

 

It’s when Prompto shifts and grabs one of Noct’s legs, tugging it up to hook around his waist, that they finally get it right. Maybe it’s just a better position. Maybe Prompto’s found confidence. Or maybe Noct’s just finally fucking relaxed enough, with their bodies wound tightly together and Prompto’s lips on his. Either way, there’s another rock of his hips, and this time the head of Prompto’s cock slides in past the tight ring of muscle.

 

It really fucking hurts. It’s wider than Prompto’s fingers were, and even with the copious amount of lube they’ve used, there’s a burning stretching feeling. Noct groans quietly against Prompto’s lips, his fingers digging into his shoulder again. His friend almost withdraws – but Noct curls his leg tighter around Prompto’s waist, heel digging into the small of his back, and keeps him there. If they stop, they won’t go again. It’s just some pain. Noctis can handle it.

 

It’s slow though, as Prompto sinks in slowly, inch by inch. His friend isn’t massive, by any means (rather, he’s average sized, though that’s devastating enough to a teenager) but it’s longer and thicker than fingers, and Noct’s horribly inexperienced. They both are, really, and the slow, steady pace is probably for the best, because Prompto’s already trembling and flushed and damn near on the verge of orgasm, just from getting inside.

 

“Noct,” Prompto’s broken the kiss at some point, and he has their foreheads pressed together. They can see right in each other’s eyes as Prompto bottoms out. Noct’s eyes are lidded and he’s breathing heavily. It really fucking hurts. They probably should’ve prepped more, but he’d _wanted_ this. And even though it hurts, there’s something else there, too. The thought that he can feel Prompto throbbing inside of him is _really_ appealing. It’s got Noct’s own erection half-hard still against his belly even through the stretching and the burning.

 

“You’re okay,” Noctis manages. Prompto nods, and a hand snakes between them, ghosts over Noct’s balls, along his shaft, teasing the still precum slick head of his cock, and _that_ helps. “Definitely okay, Prom, fuck.”

 

Noct’s hips roll up instinctively when Prompto’s hand curls around Noct’s erection, and it draws Prompto deeper into him, impossibly deep, and there’s a shift starting to take place. His body’s starting to adjust to the intrusion. It’s not all bad anymore. There’s a little surge of pleasure when Prompto gives an experimental little thrust, and it makes Noctis moan, low and quiet against Prompto’s skin.

 

“I’m gonna move, k?” Prompto says quietly, and Noctis only nods his agreement. His friend’s still got one hand on his erection, stroking him, but the pace is bad because Prompto’s starting to roll his hips, and it’s obvious where his attention is. Not that it matters much to Noctis, because that’s all starting to feel really good, and he holds on tight and tries to lift up into the motion.

 

There’s a sharp jolt of pure bliss that explodes in Noct’s mind when Prompto finally gets the angle right. He’s got both arms wrapped around Prompto’s neck now, face buried in his shoulder. One leg’s still curled up around Prompto’s waist, heel digging into his back. The other leg’s bent at the knee and spread wide to give his friend more room. Noct’s face is flushed, and he’s gasping, and it’s not all pain anymore, not by far, because those fleeting little presses that nudge the head of Prompto’s erection right up into his prostate are more than enough to make it worth it.

 

It’s over way too fast though. At some point, Prompto releases Noct’s cock. He’s bracing his elbows against the bed, on either side of Noct’s head, hips moving erratic, no real good rhythm to it, but they’re both so inexperienced that neither of them realize just how bad it is. But he’s been ready to come since before they even started, and Noct realizes, vaguely, that his best friend is gasping out _his_ name, tensing and hips jerking forward, before spilling into the condom. Noct can almost feel the warmth of it, and it makes his own cock, desperately hard and leaking now against his abdomen, twitch.

 

“Fuck, _sorry,_ ” Prompto’s breathing out, panting heavily, skin flushed and trembling, as he withdraws. Noctis starts to shake his head that it’s okay, but he doesn’t get anything else in because Prompto’s hand is back wrapped tight around his cock. The strokes are just the way Noct likes it – they’ve made _some_ progress, at least – and now that Prompto’s not distracted by tight heat wrapped around his own erection, he makes good, efficient work of it.

 

The heat is pooling in Noct’s belly. He’s been drawn close to the edge for a while, too, and Prompto’s eyes are on his again, all sex-fueled and blown out, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Now that Prompto’s withdrawn, there’s a dull, lingering burning ache between Noct’s thighs, and that just reminds him of what they’ve just done. And Prompto’s fingers are getting to the point where he may actually be _good_ at getting Noct off. It doesn’t take long before he’s clenching and gasping and Prompto’s name might be the thing that escapes Noct’s lips as he comes hard. He paints their stomachs white with his release, makes a mess all over Prompto’s hand, fingers digging into his friend’s shoulderblades hard enough to leave yet another little set of crescent-shaped marks.

 

They’re a total mess. Noctis doesn’t know at what point he realizes that, because as he rides out his orgasm, he sinks down into Prompto’s bed, and just… doesn’t move for a while. Prompto’s hand loosens as his cock softens, but his friend stays a while, hovered over him, a comfortable weight settling into Noct’s chest.

 

Eventually, Prompto shifts to get up, to tie off and discard the condom in the bathroom trash, and that’s when Noct realizes what a mess they’ve made. He came _hard,_ and it’s all over his stomach, all over Prompto’s, too. They used a lot of lube, and it seems half the tube’s made it onto the bed. It’s dripping down over Noct’s thighs too, and slicking the curve of his ass. He needs a shower, but the thought of _walking_ is absolutely daunting. Because, of course, with the pleasure faded away into a happy little memory, the throbbing is back, and it’s uncomfortable, making Noct shift to try and find a better position.

 

Prompto looks somewhat guilty when he returns. He’s wiped his own stomach and hands clean, and he has a warm, damp washclosh draped over his arm, and a glass of water and some painkllers in his hands.

 

“You’re okay?” Prompto asks again as he settles back down on the bed and hands the goods over. Noctis rolls his eyes and wonders how many times his friend will ask that – but there’s definitely a faint wince as he sits up. Okay, maybe a valid question.

 

“I’m fine,” Noct insists, but it definitely doesn’t stop him from downing the painkillers and chasing it with a sip of water. He flushes bright red, though, when Prompto swoops in to wipe his stomach clean of the drying mess there – it’s embarrassing, really. Noct shifts awkwardly, and the urge is there to stop his friend, but… well, there’s something that makes Noct, instead, fist at the sheets and look away while Prompto cleans his messy, sweat-damped and trembling stomach.

 

“We kinda made a mess,” Prompto continues, and he’s still blushing, but his eyes are still bright and happy, still have that dilated pupil, sex-blown look to them. “I gotta change the sheets.”

 

“Whatever, do it in the morning.” Noctis knows they should go to his bed. At the very least, _Noctis_ should go to his bed. Instead, he shifts over, until his side’s pressed up against the wall. “Come back to bed.”

 

The sheets are wet and there’s more than one wet spot from where lube’s gotten everywhere. Probably sweat and some semen, too. It doesn’t stop Prompto from crawling in next to Noct, though. They end up positioned weirdly, Noct on his side with his back pressed up against the wall, Prompto curled up alongside him. They’ve kicked the sheet to the bottom of the mattress without actually removing it – the worst casualty of their sex – and drawn the thick comforter up around them. It’s intimate, and close, and Prompto’s bed really is too small for this, but Noctis feels oddly safe, warm and happy, even with (maybe especially with) the throbbing between his legs.

 

“I’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow,” Noctis admits with a faint laugh and a spread of redness across his cheeks as he nuzzles into Prompto’s hair. He’s tired, and sleeping sounds really good, even though it’s not super late yet. He has a class in the morning, too, and now Noct’s pretty sure he should give himself extra time to get to it.

 

“We’ll switch next time,” Prompto promises with a sleepy little happy sound. Noct tenses, but just a little, just for a split second, before he relaxes again and nods. That sounds like a good idea. _Next time._ Noctis likes the idea of next time. He probably shouldn’t like it so much. But, well, they’ll outgrow this, right? Noct’s pretty sure he will, but for now, he’s happy.

 

“Night, Prom,” Noctis says, yawning loudly, before he buries his face back in his best friend’s hair and drifts off. They’ve definitely crossed the line and they’re just well into _super weird_ territory, but he’ll worry about that later. Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up really long, i'm sorry. i didn't wanna split these two scenes up and the sex took forever. 
> 
> mostly this turned into 'how awkward can i make first time sex between this idiots?' and it ended with prompto topping lmao. <3 
> 
> next chapter: noct probably regresses because he's dumb and sex makes him dumber.
> 
> also, this chapter is dedicated to my sister, who will both never read this, and also has no concept of what ffxv is. but she definitely got a whole lot of texts of pics of noct while we discussed how much his scrawny ass could probably backsquat. it's probably a lot bc noct has dat ass and dem thighs, tbh.


	10. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, if you wanna talk, I’m here, okay?” Prompto says instead, after another long, shifting silence. Noctis nods and goes back to his cereal. He knows. Prompto’s always here to talk, when Noct wants to. It’s just not often than Noctis actually wants to talk. He doesn’t think he can handle this particular discussion though, not now, maybe not ever.

Monday is miserable. Noct wakes up and his thighs are stiff and it hurts to shift around. He’s in Prompto’s tiny bed, crammed up close to his best friend, and it’s probably the first time in at least a year where Noctis is awake before the blare of his alarm. Even rarer – awake before Prompto, who is fast asleep, head tucked up warm and happy against Noct’s chest.

 

And this… this feels really good. Noct needs to go to the bathroom, but he lies there for a few long moments. He brushes a strand of hair out of his best friend’s face. He watches as Prompto’s eyes flutter under closed lids. He counts the most prominent freckles scattered across his cheeks. Fuck. Noct is a little overwhelmed by how _right_ it feels to be lying together like this, and it’s enough to motivate him to shift.

 

He gently pushes Prompto aside, and crawls out of bed, wincing and grumbling quietly as he does it. Noct’s old injuries are flaring up, probably from sleeping in a cramped position. His back creaks and aches and it pops when he pulls himself to his feet and attempts to stretch. His thighs are sore and stiff from the gym session, and it’s that particular level of ache that Noctis knows will only get worse before it gets better. And, worse than all of that, there’s still a full, burning sensation between his thighs from the previous night. Noct’s cheeks flush at the reminder, every time he shifts his weight and shuffles into the bathroom.

 

He’s surprised Prompto didn’t wake when he got up; his friend’s a relatively light sleeper. If Noctis wasn’t so fucking dense, maybe he’d realize that Prompto had been up half the night obsessing over exactly _what_ this was, now? Maybe Noct would realize what’s been common knowledge among all of his friends for a while now; that it’s super obvious what’s going on, just under the surface. But… Noctis is, well, Noctis, and he instead pushes it all aside and climbs into the shower, water scalding and too hot, to wash away the dried lube still coating his thighs.

 

Noct’s in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal and flipping through fanart of their favourite game on his Tumblr dash (“why does everyone make these characters _gay?”_ he grumbles through a mouthful of cinnamon toast crunch) when Prompto wanders in a little later. They both share an eleven o’clock class, and it’s only nine thirty, so for once, there’s plenty of time.

 

“Am I dreaming? You’re up early,” Prompto is quick to point out as he pokes through the fridge to find some ridiculously healthy, gross thing to eat.

 

Noct shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.” He doesn’t elaborate on the fact that he’d woken up with his best friend in his arms. Or that he’d had really warm, unpleasantly pleasant dreams the entire night, all surrounding his best friend. Or that there was still that ache between his legs.

 

Prompto puts his breakfast down on the table: a little container of yogurt, a banana, and some cold turkey bacon. Noct wrinkles his nose. His friend doesn’t sit down though, instead hovering behind Noctis.

 

“Hey. Uh. You… feel okay?” Prompto says softly, and his voice is a little shaky, more than a little hesitant. A hand finds its way to Noct’s shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. They’re always touchy-feely, this is nothing new, but this particular touch sends another little jolt of warmth straight to Noct’s chest, and he shudders and rolls his shoulders back, jerks Prompto’s hand away. It’s… well, this is fucking confusing. They don’t _talk_ about it, after the fact. That’s just the routine they’ve established in the past month or so. Noct doesn’t know if he wants to break up that routine, because he’s just starting to get familiar with it.

 

Noctis feels his cheeks flush and Prompto quickly shuffles away, and makes a point of sitting on the opposite side of the little round table, even though he’s put his breakfast down in the space next to Noct.

 

“Sorry,” Noctis says quickly, focusing his attention back down on his phone. There’s some fanart of that weird game Prompto was playing recently (seriously, he doesn’t even like the game, it’s just posted by some girl he followed because she seemed cute) and it’s the two male dudes kissing. Noct’s cheeks flush again, because he can’t help but notice how incredibly much the two characters seem to resemble himself and Prompto. Fuck, he’s projecting his weirdness now, and it’s only being multiplied by the weirdness that exists on the internet. He needs to get off his phone. “Just. Didn’t get much sleep. And… yeah. Sore.”

 

Noctis doesn’t wanna admit that much, but the words slip out. He shifts in his chair, and it’s uncomfortable and sore between his thighs. He chances a glance up at Prompto, and his best friend’s blushing too, the redness spreading and making the freckles under his eyes stand out even more.

 

“Yeah, I… sorry, dude. I should’ve…” Prompto starts to say, awkwardly.

 

“It’s fine,” Noctis says quickly, puts an end to the conversation. They don’t talk about this. Noct doesn’t want to talk about this. Talking makes it _real,_ it makes things official and strange and then he has to decide what he actually wants to do. Because there’s already a part of him that’s wanting to feel like that again. There’s a part of him that wants to draw Prompto into his arms, right here and now, and kiss him fucking senseless. Goddamnit. This is supposed to be something else. Noct doesn’t want to think about where this is going; it’s easier to push aside.

 

“You know, if you wanna talk, I’m here, okay?” Prompto says instead, after another long, shifting silence. Noctis nods and goes back to his cereal. He knows. Prompto’s always here to talk, when Noct wants to. It’s just not often than Noctis actually wants to talk. He doesn’t think he can handle this particular discussion though, not now, maybe not ever.

 

Luckily, they’ve got class to go to. It’s one that they have together, but as soon as they’re out of the apartment, as soon as things feel _safe,_ out in the open with the whole world watching them, things shift back to their normalcy. Noct’s got an arm thrown over Prompto’s shoulders as they make their way to campus, and if there’s a faint flush that spreads across his best friend’s cheeks, well, Noct pointedly ignores that. There’s no need to make it weird. Their friendship hasn’t changed. And, well, under public eye, it hasn’t.

 

This particular class isn’t so bad, and the professor delves right into the first lecture, which Noct appreciates, since it’s something to focus on. They’ve got the afternoon off, when it ends, though Prompto’s picked up an extra shift at work apparently, and Noct decides it’s about high time he checks out the college library to get a head start on his work. He’s learned, quite quickly, in this first week of school, that he’s the type of person who can’t focus at home. There are too many distractions, and eager as Noct is, he’s prone to procrastination. There’s video streaming, video games, his _bed,_ and it’s all far more appealing than his textbooks.

 

The college is large and sprawling enough that it houses two libraries. The one closer to them is, by chance, apparently the less crowded one, where graduate students opted to do most of their research and thesis work. Noct and Prompto are lucky enough to live on the nicer (and therefore, less affordable) side of the college area, courtesy of Noct’s dad, and as Noctis wanders into the sparsely populated, huge expanse of building, he’s momentarily appreciative of that. After all, it’s the first week of classes, when all the freshmen are bright-eyed and hopeful and populating the stacks of bookcases, normally.

 

It’s not hard for Noct to find a desk tucked away in an empty corner. The place is mostly empty, and quiet enough that the buzzing of Noct’s phone would be one hell of a distraction, which is taboo enough to make him quickly turn it off and tuck it in his bag. He props open his textbook, opens up a fresh, blank page of a notebook, and tries to get to work with the first set of homework problems that were assigned.

 

And, well, there aren’t any real distractions, that much is true. The library is silent though. And for a stiff-backed chair, there is a bit of cushion that’s surprisingly comfortable, given how sore and stiff in _very_ awkward places Noct is. Okay, maybe he didn’t get enough sleep. In _Prompto’s_ bed, that thought comes back unbidden and very unwanted to the forefront of Noct’s mind. He groans, quiet, well aware of the silence in the building. Maybe this was a bad idea. Noct slouches forward, his cheek coming to rest on the pristine, lined white paper of his open notebook. It’s far more comfortable than it should be. He’s really tired. Noctis sighs, and he closes his eyes, momentarily. Maybe he just needs to rest his eyes; they’re burning, bright with emotion and exhaustion and a whole bunch of things all rolled together. That’s probably it.

 

Noct’s vaguely aware that he shouldn’t be napping in a library, but… well. Has that ever stopped Noct before? He hasn’t been listening to those voices in the back of his head, why start now? He’s got his eyes closed, and he’s drifting off though, so obviously he doesn’t care.

 

The real question is, when did Prompto get into the library with him?

 

More importantly, why is his best friend kneeling under the desk he’s seated at? Prompto’s head presses between Noct’s legs, fingers working deftly at the buttons of his pants, and – _oh._ Oh, yes. Okay, that’s why Prompto is there. Noctis understands. He shifts a little, gets his legs spread wider, and he groans when Prompto pulls his cock out of his pants. He’s soft still, but he’s getting there, and fast, with his best friend’s goddamn talented hand working at him. He grips at the desk, hard, when Prompto’s lips close wet and needy around the tip of his cock, too. But – something’s not quite right, his friend is _never_ this quiet, and…

 

“Hey, brat.”

 

The words are a jolt through Noct’s entire body. He realizes a couple of things, really quickly. One, that his face is flat on his notebook and he’s drooling all over the paper. Two, he’s got an awkward half-erection. Third, he _recognizes_ that damn voice.

 

Noctis groans and lifts his head, hopes that his lower half is completely hidden from view. “Hey, Aranea.”

 

It would make sense, Noct supposes, that a graduate student (or whatever she is, Noct still doesn’t really know for sure) would be in the library that was mostly haunted by graduate students. Of course, it means the one person he would rather not catch him in the middle of a sexy nap is the exact person to do so.

 

“Don’t worry,” Aranea says quickly, her voice low, as she pulls up a chair – damnit – and sits down next to Noctis. “I won’t tell momma Iggy that you’re slacking off already,” she laughs quietly, and tips her head to get a good look at Noct. Aranea looks good today. She always looks good, though Noct’s stomach does flips there because the last time he saw her was in that goddamn shirt of Ignis’s. She’s, thankfully, far more dressed now, in a pair of tight jeans and a sweater, her hair hanging loose over her face. And, she’s wearing a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. Her eyes are sharp though, as always, even from behind glasses, and they find Noct’s immediately, and it feels like she’s staring right into his fucking soul.

 

“It was just a quick nap,” Noct grumbles, and he rolls his eyes even as he wipes at them, clearing them of any trace of sleep.

 

“I know,” Aranea smiles, and it’s a pure evil one. “I was sitting over there the whole time,” she points over her shoulder at another row of desks. “Noticed you a while ago.”

 

“Watching me? You’re creepy,” Noctis grumbles again, pointedly looking down at the desk, away from her piercing glance.

 

“Only a little,” Aranea agrees though, and she lifts a hand to adjust the glasses, then crosses her legs, one heeled boot over the other. “You seemed to be enjoying your dream a little _too_ much so I decided to come interrupt you. Sorry lover boy.”

 

Oh. Just when Noct thinks things can’t get any worse. He shrinks down in his seat, and well, if there’s one thing Aranea is good for, it’s knowing how to kill his erection almost immediately. She’s too _scary_ for him to even find attractive in a sexual way, and everything she says is both terrifying and traumatizing.

 

“Can you like… not mention this to anyone?” Noctis sighs. He should’ve denied it, but hell, what was the fucking point?

 

“Y’know, _Noct,_ ” Aranea uses the shortened version of his name, the nickname his friends have for him, and it makes Noctis jump a little, uneasily lifting his eyes to meet hers again. “I’m not a monster. I’m a bitch, yeah, but… Iggy likes you,” she smiles, and there’s a bit too much tooth, a bit of harshness, but there’s something genuine there too. “You’re just a kid. Naïve as hell. Fun to torture. But I’m not about to _genuinely_ make your life hard.”

 

“I like you better when you’re a monster,” Noct groans back, but he thinks he might, just maybe, understand what she’s getting at, under the surface. He thinks maybe she’s not quite so different as he is, in some strange ways, and that she’s driven by something that might bring them together, instead of distancing them. Or maybe she’s just fucking with him. Noct’s not sure; he’s not very good at reading people.

 

“Me too,” Aranea agrees though, and she smiles. “So, you wanna tell me who you’re dreamin’ of?”

 

“ _No,”_ Noct says the words instantly, far too quickly, and feels himself flush, even if he’s trying to look cool and collected and not at all like a sexually confused, repressed nineteen year old boy. He’s absolutely not managing to do any of that. In fact, quite the opposite, he’s failing spectacularly. Fuck.

 

“Complicated then?” Aranea tips her head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Interesting.”

 

Noctis sighs, because he can’t exactly deny any of _that,_ at least. “Complicated,” he agrees, but there’s a large part of him screaming at himself for even saying that much. Nothing was complicated. Absolutely nothing. The only thing that will make this complicated is if Noct starts to put more weight into the situation than it merits. He and Prompto are best friends, after all.

 

“But you’re fucking,” Aranea continues, and Noct sputters.

 

“What?!”

 

“Whoever it is, you’re fucking them,” she says again, confidently, and she’s smiling. “I can tell. Virgins are always so cute when they lose their innocence.”

 

Just when Noct thinks the situation can’t get any worse, this happens. He doesn’t know how to respond. Denial? Well, he really _isn’t_ a virgin anymore. And damnit, it all goes back to that stupid drunken conversation they’d had ages ago, the one that had started all this. Prompto and his damn claims that college girls could _sense_ this stuff. Aranea wasn’t really the typical college girl. She was older, probably far more experienced, _terrifying,_ a damn grown woman. But she’s gone and picked right up on it, hasn’t she? Noctis just makes a sad, pathetic little noise in the back of his throat. Apparently Prompto’s right about that. What else is his best friend right about?

 

“Not talking about this,” Noctis mumbles instead, and he pointedly reaches for his stupid math textbook, the one he just can’t seem to get through.

 

“Fine,” Aranea rolls her eyes, “bet your little blonde boyfriend’s jealous, whoever it is.”

 

Noct’s hand slips and the book drops to the table with a loud thud, one that echoes through the entire fucking library, it’s so goddamn silent. He manages to hold back the second choked, pathetic noise that tries to escape. Small victories.

 

“ _Oh,_ ” but Aranea doesn’t offer up anything more than that. She leans back in her chair, and fixes Noct with a look, one that reduces him to something tiny and pathetic and shifting in his chair. Noctis thinks he understands what small insects feel like now, the moment before they’re squashed out of existence. Maybe Aranea’s taking pity on him though (he really must be pathetic, wow) because she shifts her gaze, looks at the book he’s trying to open. “Precalc, huh? Iggy’s the math genius, but I know a few things. Want some help?”

 

Noct’s grateful for the distraction. He thinks he just wants Aranea to go away, but he knows the second she does, he’s going to be obsessing over this conversation. Over the implications, over… well, every goddamn thing he can think about to overcomplicate a normal bout of teenage experimentation. And he really does need to get this goddamn math homework done.

 

“Sure,” Noctis shrugs. “If you want.”

 

\---

 

Later, that night, after Prompto gets home from work, they’re sitting on the living room couch as usual. Noct has, incredibly, managed to finish all of his homework, and it turns out Aranea’s a huge help. Prompto’s grumbling about how he still has to do all of _his,_ and Noct tells him he can copy, to shut him up, even though he really shouldn’t.

  
It’s getting late, by Noct’s standards at least, and Noct’s half asleep with a textbook in his lap. Prompto’s playing a video game, that usual dumb one he’s been into, but Noct’s not paying attention to that. He’s got his head lulled down onto Prompto’s shoulder, and it feels really good, warm and far more comfortable than it should. Noct knows he needs to lift up and go to sleep.

 

It’s when Prompto shifts next to him, and an arm slides around his waist that Noct jolts fully awake again. The touch is electric, with Prompto’s arm hot and sending a shudder up Noct’s spine. It feels _good,_ it feels right, and of course that’s all wrong.

 

Noct lifts up and away. Prompto pauses the game and twists around, tips his head to catch Noct’s eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

He didn’t, of course. Noct and Prompto have been overly touchy and feely through their entire damn friendship. The first time they met, it was with Prompto slinging an arm around Noct’s shoulders and acting like this is how it’s been all along, and Noct chose, in that moment, to go along with it. Noct feels his cheeks turning red, and it’s mortifying, and he dips his head down, looks away.

 

“No. Just tired,” he says quickly. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

 

Prompto fixes Noct with a look for a moment, before averting his own eyes as well, shrugging, and Noct feels a flare of guilt, because he doesn’t think he’s saying the right thing. But there’s nothing else, really, that Noct can say – he doesn’t know how else to react here.

 

“Night,” Noctis says instead, and he shuffles back to his room. He doesn’t normally close his bedroom door, but tonight he does. He leaves most of his clothes on, too, crawls right under the sheets and curls up. But he can’t fall asleep. Noctis feels… fuck, he feels alone and empty, and he doesn’t know why. And he can’t stop thinking. About what Aranea said. They aren’t _virgins_ anymore, so why does he still want to do this? Practice, maybe? Experience? Can Noctis justify that?

 

And Prompto’s always warm, and that damn arm wrapped around him felt good. Really good.

 

Part of Noctis wants to climb out of bed, to shuffle back into the living room and pull Prompto into bed with him. He wants to curl up around his warmth and just be _close,_ and that’s the most terrifying thought of all. Noct’s pretty sure he’s gone and fucked everything up, and Prompto will hate him if he ever finds out. So, Noct decides, as he finally starts to drift off – and maybe it’s minutes, or hours, he doesn’t know – that he’s going to squash these fucked up emotions, that it’s up to him to make things normal again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short lil chapter. <3 
> 
> I'm so fuckin' busy, this is all I've managed to crank out the past few days. we're running a half marathon tomorrow morning here in orlando florida (the disney star wars half!) and my life has been theme parks and more theme parks and exhaustion and my feet ALREADY hurt, why am i doing this?
> 
> so anyway, noct's struggling, expect a whole lot more chapters of awkward noct struggling, because this is Life Now. as always, thanks for reading, on tumblr @destatree !!


	11. Retrospection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s complicated,” Noctis says aloud. “You know that.” 
> 
> “Yeah,” Prompto agrees, and he doesn’t really know why, but he knows that it’s a thing.

If Prompto thinks Noct is acting weird, he doesn’t mention it. The rest of the week flies by. After that first initial week, they fall into a routine. College, Noctis learns quickly, is deceptive. He has lots of freedom – more fucking freedom than he’s ever had in his life. Before, when he lived with his dad, there was structure. There was high school, extra lessons with Ignis, work with Gladio, his dad trying to keep tabs on him despite being impossibly busy. Now, even though Noct’s friends are still checking in, Noct’s finding that he has a lot of free time.

 

It just also happens that he has a lot of homework to do. It’s a good distraction though, and Noct welcomes it; when Prompto comes in at night after work, or after class, Noct’s head is buried in a textbook. Half the time, he’s procrastinating, or trolling the internet on his phone browser, but he hurriedly pretends to be doing work.

 

‘Hey’ Prompto will say, and Noct will lift his head, offer a ‘hey’ back, and they’ll exchange smiles that are maybe a little awkward, if Noct was smart enough to realize that. It’s easier though, to focus on everything else, to block out the buzzing in his ears, the fluttering of his heart, the strange desire to set his stuff aside and ask Prompto to fall back into bed with him. But apart from a few, lingering looks that Prompto shoots him, they’re okay. They don’t talk about it. Noct still lets his head rest on Prompto’s shoulder when they fall asleep watching a movie together one night.

 

In short, Noct’s giving off mixed signals like nothing else. He doesn’t know it though. He thinks everything is good, this is going according to his loose plan of ‘keep it casual and normal’ and well, how is he supposed to know any better?

 

Noctis forgets that he’s having dinner with his dad untl Friday morning rolls around. It’s afternoon when Noct drags his ass out of bed. Prompto’s gone to class and come home again, and he’s got lunch going. It’s the smell of bacon that entices Noctis up, draws him to shuffle forward into the kitchen. He’s only half-dressed, a pair of loose pants hanging low on his hips, and he’s attempted to put a t-shirt on, but it’s all tangled in the back and half-pushed up his stomach. Noctis grumbles, runs a hand through his tangled hair, and sits down heavily, yawning and stretching. His back is aching today, and Noct doesn’t really know why.

 

“Hey, sleepyface,” Prompto teases. He’s got a pan of bacon going on the stove. Proper stuff too, none of that gross fake turkey bacon he’s fond of, which pleases Noctis. “You should check your phone. Iggy’s been blowing mine up dude; he’s trying to call you.”

 

Noctis grumbles again instead of offering up a proper response. He fell asleep on his phone the night before, and it’d fallen down in the crack between headboard and mattress. He’s too lazy to go digging for it.

 

“Whatever,” Prompto rolls his eyes and steps over to swat at Noct’s shoulder playfully. “Next time he calls I’m putting you on the phone.”

 

“Fine, I’ll call him in a bit,” Noct swats Prompto’s hand playfully, and there’s a moment where they’re smacking at each other, getting handsy and stupid, and it draws a reluctant smile across Noct’s sleepy face. It makes Prompto laugh, but the bacon spits loudly on the stove and he rushes back to tend to it and turn the heat down.

 

Noct tips his head back, slouches down in the chair, a perfectly awful example of posture (and it’s no wonder his back aches, really, childhood injuries aside). “Whatcha makin’?” he asks lazily. He was planning on eating a bowl of cereal for lunch; this is a pleasant surprise. Assuming, of course, that Prompto isn’t sneaking his gross healthy food in there.

 

“Bakery next block over had some really good bread on sale. Had a craving for a BLT,” Prompto offers up, and Noct wrinkles his nose and shoots him a glare. “Don’t worry, Noct. For you it’s just bacon and cheese.”

 

“Good,” Noct won’t eat anything green or fresh that Prompto puts on a sandwich anyway. He’s nineteen years old and still picking lettuce and tomatoes off his burgers at fast food joints like he’s six. At this point, his palette is probably set that way forever, anyway. Ignis keeps trying, but Prompto knows better. Prompto knows _him._

 

“Your thing’s tonight,” Prompto continues, and that makes Noct sit up a bit straighter. “Right? With your dad? Probably why Ignis is going crazy calling you.”

 

“Fuck,” Noct groans, and he leans down, lets his forehead rest on the edge of the table. He’s forgotten entirely about that. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see his dad, he just gets… _anxious._ He stresses about it. Their relationship is still complicated. Nothing has changed there, even if so many other aspects of Noct’s life are shifting around. “I forgot all about that.”

 

“Better go figure that out,” Prompto chirps out, but there’s a look in his eyes as Noctis lifts his head, glances back at his friend. There’s – what? – concern there? Sympathy? Some pang of emotion that sends a jolt right through Noctis, makes his stomach do strange flips. It’s enough motivation for him to force himself up out of the chair and back to his room to dig around under his bed awkwardly until his finds his phone.

 

Prompto isn’t lying – there’s a handful of missed phone calls and a few texts from Ignis. It’s not uncommon for Noct to sleep in this late, of course, nor is it unusual for Ignis to spam him with messages and calls in an attempt to rouse him. It all comes down to Ignis attempting to make plans to pick Noct up and drive him over to his father’s. Noctis grumbles, because if his dad would just _buy him a damn car_ he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone for a ride around. Granted, their apartment’s parking situation is precarious, but he doesn’t even want a _nice_ car. His dad has an old vintage thing he doesn’t even drive anymore – maybe he can pass it down to him. Noct makes a mental note to bring that up again. Another topic that isn’t uncommon, but never successful.

 

Prompto’s got the food plated and waiting for Noctis when he returns to the kitchen. He’s texted back Ignis a quick response, to confirm the time, to okay that whatever plans have been set are okay. Noct absolutely doesn’t care about the details.

 

“There, he’ll leave you alone now,” Noct says, settling back down at the table. “When my dad shames me out of existence for whatever reason tonight, you can have all my video games,” he sighs overdramatically and he picks up his sandwich. Out of habit, he pulls it open, investigates, and is happy to see it’s a mess of bacon, cheese, and honey mustard, a very adequate sandwich. Prompto knows him well (too well, Noct’s anxious mind adds, and his stomach flips again.)

 

“Your dad’s kinda scary but he’s not _that_ scary,” Prompto shoots back. He’s actually eating bread for once, Noctis notices, and it makes him happy in a way he can’t quite place. Noct shouldn’t care, but sometimes Prompto’s too hard on himself, with his eating habits, obsessing over calories and carbs and getting enough running in. Noct doesn’t say that, of course – he’ll never say anything like that – but he tries to focus on Prompto’s words.

 

And Prompto’s right, of course. Noct’s dad can be intimidating, but he means well. He’s always meant well. It’s just…hard to describe. It’s complicated.

 

“It’s complicated,” Noctis says aloud instead. “You know that.”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, and he doesn’t really know _why,_ but he knows that it’s a thing. Maybe it’s Noctis who’s the complicated one. Whatever it is, Prompto doesn’t press it any further, but his foot brushes against Noct’s under the table briefly, and it feels intimate for some reason – like a silent, subtle reassurance. Noct doesn’t pull away, even though he should. He aims a playful kick at Prompto’s shin, and they stay there at the table, in quiet silence, for a while.

 

\---

 

Ignis picks Noct up precisely at six o’clock as planned. Ignis is never late. It’s a bit freakish really. Once, when he was younger, Noctis was determined to make ignis late for _something._ It was an evil plot that involved changing the time on all the clocks, and turning off automatic time updates on Ignis’s phone and changing it. Just a small change, something like five minutes behind. Ignis had still showed up exactly on schedule. Noct is convinced that Ignis is a freak of nature. A robot, maybe.

 

He hasn’t mentioned anything to Ignis about the fact that he’s gotten a good glimpse into his advisor’s personal life. Maybe he should. That’s just another confused mess of thought running Noct’s head, but it’s taken a backseat to his own issues. Whether that’s a good or bad thing – he doesn’t know.

 

Ignis lifts a brow because Noct’s dressed in…. well. Practically the same thing Noct’s always dressed in. Maybe Noctis should make more effort, maybe his dad will care more if he shows up in something proper, but that’s just not Noctis. He made sure that the t-shirt he’s got on is _clean_ at least, and he actually traded in the sweatpants for a pair of dark jeans, which is an improvement. That’s about as much effort as Noctis is willing to make, honestly.

 

“What torture is he subjecting me to tonight, Iggy?” Noct groans as he throws himself into the passenger’s seat. He puts on the belt – only because Ignis likes to yell at him when he doesn’t – and tips his head against the window. Maybe Noct can get in a powernap, since the drive across the city, with Friday night traffic, is going to take some time.

 

“You’re not in trouble,” Ignis is quick to point out as he pulls back onto the street, though his eyes are on the road ahead, and he’s not paying Noct any extra attention for once. “I highly doubt quality time with your father is a legitimate form of torture.”

 

“Whatever, semantics,” Noctis grumbles. He’s anxious because he’s always anxious when it’s a meeting involving his dad. Even if Ignis has a point: if Noctis was in trouble for some reason or another, he’d sure as hell know he’s in trouble. And even more so, Ignis would know if he’s in trouble for any reason, since Ignis exists, apparently, to keep tabs on Noct. There’s still fear though. His dad’s health isn’t the best, what if something’s wrong…? And there’s all these expectations, for Noct to take over the family business, and if his dad’s health is getting worse, if he’s forced into an early retirement…? What then?

 

Noct doesn’t even know if he wants to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but he can’t exactly bring that up, not right now, maybe not ever.

 

Ignis makes idle chat for a while, but Noct’s only half-answering. It’s all vague questions about how the first week of school has been, about how Prompto’s doing (there’s a little jolt in Noct’s stomach at the question about his best friend, and he quickly presses forward past that), about how the new apartment is… eventually though, Ignis gives up. His oldest friend knows him, and there’s the struggle of whether he should try and keep Noct distracted, or just settle for the silence that Noctis seemingly wants. The silence wins out in the end. Noct’s happy enough (so he tells himself) to sit in silence, to stare at the dark scenery rushing by as they exit the freeway and into the heart of the financial district, where his dad’s office is.

 

At least Noct’s thoughts aren’t entirely on Prompto for the first time in… too long. That’s a good thing, right?

 

\---

 

“ _Dad,”_ Noct’s voice is more a high-pitched whine than anything else. He’s clutching his ratty old blanket to his chest. He’s probably too old to have such a blanket, but his mom purchased that blanket for him while she was pregnant, he’s been told, and he feels connected to her, when he’s got it bunched up in his arms. So even though he’s seven years old, nobody tells Noct he shouldn’t be toting it around the house. “Do you have to go?”

 

“You know I do, Noct,” his dad’s voice is low, a mix of kindness and reluctance and something else Noct doesn’t quite place, though the emotion is familiar. “It won’t be long, only a few days. Clarus is going to stay with you, and he’ll have Gladio and Iris. Ignis is going to come stay, too.”  

 

“I don’t want them,” Noct insists. He wants his _mom,_ but she’s dead, she died before Noctis really has any proper memories of her. He wants his dad to be at home with him, like the other dads. He’s only in first grade, but all the other kids have _two parents._ His dad tries – he shows up at parent teacher conferences, when he can. But there’s that one trip his dad had to attend over the holidays, and Clarus Amicitia was the one to show up for his holiday pageant, and it just isn’t the same. Some of the other kids have hand packed lunches with little notes from their moms, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off, home baked cookies, the works.  Noct’s lunch is usually leftover takeout that his dad brought home because there’s nobody to cook for them. Two days a week, his dad leaves work early to pick him up and he takes him back to his office, but Noct’s stuck alone in front of the TV there, or playing on his dad’s tablet, while his father works. The other days, he gets shuffled back home to an empty apartment with a sitter until Ignis stops by when he gets off school a few hours later.

 

Noct’s life is subtly different. The other kids talk about him too sometimes, behind his back, and maybe they think they’re being sneaky, but little kids aren’t sneaky. They’re loud and obnoxious and Noct knows that the other parents must talk about them too, because _“my mom says they’re_ really _rich,”_ isn’t something that comes unsolicited from a seven year old’s mouth.

 

“I want _you_ ,” Noct repeats, and his voice is stubborn, and there’s a little waver as he stands between his dad and the front door. His dad says it’s only a few days but he’s got his big, heavy briefcase, and a suitcase too. He’s going to be gone a while, or at least he suspects he will, if he’s packed that much. Noct’s only six, but he knows how to assess when his dad won’t be back for a while. He’ll be gone at least a week here.

 

“Noctis,” his dad says, and he kneels in front of him. Noct’s dad has a face that can flash between stern, cold and unyielding, to warm, loving and affectionate, in the blink of an eye. Noct doesn’t doubt his dad loves him, but… he wishes, maybe a little – okay, a lot – that his dad loves him _more,_ enough that he’ll stay home, so Noctis doesn’t need to be alone.

 

“It won’t be long. You’re going to have a lot of fun with Ignis and Gladio; they’ll stay and keep you company. You boys can camp out in my room if you want, while I’m gone. You can sleep in my bed, or you can set up the tent on the floor. There’s stuff for s’mores in the cupboard. You know Gladio _loves_ camping,” his dad is saying, and Noct sighs, the tight grip he has on the blanket pulled to his chest relaxing just a little.

 

“He likes _real_ camping, dad,” Noct wrinkles his nose. Gladio, his dad’s best friend’s kid, has just turned eleven (he’s three years older, but his birthday’s earlier so it’s _really_ like being four years older, he tells Noctis), and he thinks he’s _way_ cooler than Noct is. Which isn’t exactly a falsehood, anyway. He’s at the age where he doesn’t wanna play with his dad’s boss’s annoying kid, but Noct doesn’t wanna say that and get Gladio in trouble, because then he’ll just be even more upset.

 

“I’ll ask Clarus to take you guys _real_ camping this weekend, then,” his dad offers with a smile. “You’re going to have fun, Noct, I promise.”

 

“Fine,” Noct agrees, but he’s not really looking forward to any of this. None of the pretend camping, not even if there’s _actual_ camping. He’s excited to see Ignis – he always is – and the two of them are close. Clarus just isn’t his dad though, and Gladio gets annoyed, being around him. Iris, Gladio’s younger sister, is still just a baby, and she doesn’t understand much of anything. Really, Noctis wishes he could just be a normal kid, with a normal life.

 

It’s two days into his dad’s trip, a Friday afternoon, when Clarus picks him up from school and announces that they are indeed going camping. It’s not Noct’s fault when he thinks he sees his dad’s car pull up across the street. It _looks_ like his dad’s old vintage car, and there aren’t a whole lot of them there. It’s not Clarus’s fault when Noct slips his hand free and jerks away, takes off running as fast as he can to meet his dad. They’ve surprised him – his dad is home, after all! His dad is going to take him camping!

 

It’s not his dad’s car though; it’s just a coincidence.

 

And it’s nobody’s fault, really, that Noct runs straight into the busy street to get over to the other side to see what he thinks is his dad’s car. Nobody can brake that fast. There’s a screech of brakes, there’s Clarus Amicitia yelling out Noct’s name and giving desperate chase, but Noct doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late, and then there’s a sharp impact, an explosion of red-hot pain in Noct’s skull, and that’s all he knows, until there’s blackness.

 

He really, really wants his mom and dad, Noct thinks vaguely, as everything fades away.

 

\---

 

_“Noct.”_

Ignis’s voice jolts Noctis back to reality. He’s dozed off, and he’s quickly made aware of that fact by how much his neck aches from the angle he fell asleep in, or how much his body creaks and protests as he pulls himself out of the car. Ignis has pulled over in front of his dad’s apartment building, and he’s waiting patiently for Noct to climb out.

 

“Text me when you’re done and I’ll take you home,” Ignis says quietly, and he shoots Noct a look that Noctis can only translate into encouragement, maybe a bit of silent support. Noct finds he appreciates that far more than he should.

 

“Yeah,” Noct acknowledges. He still has a key to his dad’s place, and they know him at the front desk, of course, and wave him up without any protest or question.

 

Noct’s only been moved out for a couple of months now, but he’s already learning the existence of uncanny valley, and he doesn’t like it very much. The condo he shared with his dad for all those years… it looks the same, but it’s not _quite_ home anymore, doesn’t quite feel that way. It’s far more upsetting than it should be, and it has Noctis on edge from the moment he steps in.

 

His dad doesn’t hug him, but he grips Noct by the shoulders, and gives him an appraising look, and he’s smiling when he pulls away. He looks exhausted, Noctis notes with a pang of fear. The lines on his dad’s face are etched in, just a little more pronounced than they were when he just saw him at his birthday. There are dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t been sleeping well. And there’s a slight tremor when his dad walks from the kitchen into the adjoining dining room, and he settles down on a chair a little too heavily. His dad’s bad knee has been acting up. Noct feels his palms get a little sweaty, and he has to take a few deep, calming breaths.

 

“How’s school?” his father asks, waving him over, and Noct settles down at the dining room table after he kicks off his shoes. He doesn’t bother with good posture – they’re not exactly out in public after all, and his dad’s acting informal. He’s apparently grabbed takeout, and he hasn’t bothered with any actual dishes; it’s all Styrofoam cartons and plastic forks.

 

Noct likes it better when it’s like this. It almost makes him feel like they have a _normal_ relationship, like his dad isn’t some stoic, god-like success story. His dad’s ordered the food he likes, too. Noodles with shrimp, and it’s easy enough that Noct can pick the vegetables out.

 

“It’s going,” Noct mumbles as he digs into his food. He hasn’t eaten well today; he’s been far too nervous for this meeting. And, as always, now that they’re here, together, it’s… not so bad. That’s just how his relationship with his dad is. Anxiety and fear, for reasons he can’t even begin to comprehend, because it’s really never terrible. His dad is distant sometimes, yeah, but Noct’s never doubted that he loves him.

 

“Good,” his father gives him a _look_ as Noct shoves a piece of pepper to the side of his food carton, but doesn’t comment. Noct is an adult now, after all, and if he wants to keep making his shitty food choices? He sure as hell can’t be stopped at this point. “Have your school calendar yet?”

 

“Yeah,” Noct goes for a drink, and he’s grateful that his dad ordered him a soda. He needs the caffeine, after the nerve-wracking day he’s had.

 

“You have a holiday in October, correct?”

 

Noctis blinks, and he puts his drink aside. “Uh, yeah, end of the month, I think we have fall break,” he hasn’t expected that question. “I’ve got it in my phone, hang on…” he puts down his chopsticks, too, lets them rest on the kitchen table – poor manners, whatever – and tugs out his phone. Ignis, of course, being the great role model he is, had sat Noct down after his first week of classes and made him program _every_ fucking thing from his stack of syllabi into his phone. All assignment due dates, all dates that they had no classes, all holidays, etc.

 

“Yeah, fall break. No classes, the twenty third to the twenty seventh…” Noct’s not sure why his dad cares – honestly, they haven’t had a family vacation in years, and he doesn’t think his dad wants to start up that tradition now? Unless maybe he actually _misses_ having Noctis around. “I don’t have Friday classes though, so I’ll be free on the twentieth…”

 

Noct’s dad fixes him with a look, and Noctis recognizes this particular look. His dad’s pondering something over, and he can practically see the gears turning in his father’s head. It’s a bit disconcerting, and Noct looks down at his food, picks up his chopsticks again, and busies himself with shoveling a mouthful of noodles into his mouth.

 

“You don’t have to agree,” his father says after a moment’s pause, “but I have a business trip to Tenebrae. I know you’re young, Noct, and you have better things to do… you’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” there’s another pause, and a quiet laugh, and Noct feels his dad’s eyes on him, bright and intense, and he can’t help but flush. “I’d like you to come along. Might do you good, to get some business experience in. Will look good on a resume at the very least.”

 

“I…” Noct groans, because… he doesn’t know what to say. He’s taking business in school, yeah, because he doesn’t know what else to do, and his dad says it’s a good starting point. It’ll put him in a position to take over someday. Or, if he wants, his dad has told him _multiple_ times, even though Noct knows he’s just saying that to ease some of the pressure, he can do something else with his life. He’s just gotta figure it out. He’s gotta go on this trip, doesn’t he?

 

“Besides,” his father adds, and there’s a hint of humour in his voice, one that makes Noctis flinch, somehow terrifies him even more than anything else that’s happened thus far, “isn’t that cute girl you talk to from Tenebrae? I suppose I could look the other way if you’d like to go out on a date or two.”

 

Noctis groans, and he’s definitely flushing bright red.

 

“Yeah,” Noct agrees. What else can he do?

 

\---

 

It’s late when Noctis gets home. His dad has lots of questions about what he’s learning, what classes he’s taking, what classes he’s taking _next_ semester, and then there’s a series of questions about how _Prompto_ is doing, which is even more goddamn awkward. There’s the promise that he’ll send Noct the flight information, as soon as it’s booked, too, and there’s the leftover takeout packed away for him to take back with him for him to eat cold for breakfast the next day – though, more likely, Prompto will get into it before Noct even wakes up.

 

Ignis expresses mild surprise when Noct tells him about the trip. Noctis has a feeling Ignis already knew about it, though there seems to be genuine emotion that Noctis has agreed to go. There’s a sort of strange emotion bubbling up in Noct’s stomach. He hasn’t heard from Luna in a while, but it will be good to see her, right? He’s sort of harboured a low-key crush on her for a while, after all. That’s what he tells himself, firmly, leaving no room for debate or doubt.

 

Prompto’s waiting up for him when Noct gets home. He takes the back steps up into the apartment, as usual, and Prompto’s sitting out on the deck, on a little plastic chair they’ve got. He’s smoking, and Noct frowns his disapproval, but says nothing.

 

“Hey, how’d it go?” Prompto tips his head back, exhales a cloud of smoke into the night air.

 

“Okay,” Noct leans against the railing, looks out over the surrounding houses, though they’re little more than vague shapes in the darkness. “Dad’s going on a business trip and I guess he wants me to go with him.”

 

“You gonna go?” Prompto’s looking at him – Noct can feel his gaze – and he turns, so his back’s pressed up against the railing, catching his friend’s eye.

 

“I told him I would. Mostly so he wouldn’t get disappointed,” Noct admits that much, and it’s a bit of a weight off his chest to get it out. He didn’t mention that part to Ignis, of course, because things he tell Ignis sometimes make it back to his dad. If his dad knew he didn’t _really_ wanna go? He’d probably find a reason to cancel the trip, or at least a reason that Noctis couldn’t come along. It’s easier this way.

 

“Besides,” Noct adds, and he manages a little lopsided smile, one that’s only half-forced, “we’re going to Tenebrae. Can probably swing a date with Luna.”

 

It’s the darkness, Noct thinks, that makes it look like, just for a split second, his best friend’s expression falters, tightens into something else. It must be, because then Prompto’s grinning, before he goes in for another drag of his cigarette. Maybe if Noct’s more perceptive, he’d notice it’s a slightly pained smile – but Noct’s always been good at ignoring the obvious, at pretending to see only what he wants to see.

 

“Guess I’ll have to try extra hard to find a date too, huh?” Prompto laughs a little, though he presses out the lit end of his cigarette in the plastic cup filled with gross water and soggy cigarette butts they’re using as a makeshift ashtray. “Don’t wanna get left behind.”

 

“C’mere,” Noct says suddenly, and he’s tugging Prompto up off the chair, over to the window. The kitchen light is on, inside, and if they stand right in front of the window, it’s enough to light their features up. He tugs his phone out, tosses an arm around Prompto’s shoulder, and grins as he takes a super awkward selfie of the two of them. The flash goes off, and it half-blinds them, and makes the photo look awkward and washed out, but they’re both laughing and Prompto’s cheeks are a little flushed, and they look _natural,_ like the stupid idiots they are. “Gotta get a picture to send to Luna,” Noct explains, as they head back inside, “figure she’ll wanna see how you’re doing, too.”

 

“Tell her I’m doing okay,” Prompto offers up, after a heartbeat’s worth of silence. Noct thinks there’s maybe more they could say, but neither of them are willing to say it. He’ll email her in the morning, though, Noctis decides, because they end up settling onto their usual places on the couch, and Noct’s got his legs tossed across Prompto’s lap, and they watch a stupid movie until the early hours of the morning. And Noct, for once, doesn’t fall asleep on the couch, because it’s been one hell of a day and his mind is racing in directions he can’t quite grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> faaaaaaaaack i went a week without updating??? how did that happen??? i am so sorry guys. D: nobody cares about my life, i know, but i ran a half marathon last sunday, then flew cross-country on monday (i was going orlando back to orange county ca but they routed me up to seattle first??? hell is real) and then i had Life Shit to deal w/ as soon as i got back on the west coast. okay, so it's mostly Jetlag and FINALLY getting a chance to sit down and play Persona 5, but. fuck. i lost track of time. 
> 
> i'll try and get faster updates out now!! tryin' to delve into Noct and his dumbass issues so i'm sorry that not a whole lot happened this chapter, but... well, i felt the need to set up plot. Loose, bad attempt at plot??? since there's no plot here let's be honest. those who know their dates know where this shit is goin'.... buahahaha. ;)
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, and thanks for feedback and kudos! sorry to those whose beautiful comments i never got a chance to respond to, the jetlag monster is real, i got back almoast a damn week ago and woke up at 4:30 AM today.. killll meeeeee.


	12. Goddamn Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s in so much goddamn trouble, because Noct’s not even pretending that he’s thinking of Luna anymore. There’s no illusion of soft curves, of breasts pressed against his chest, of a tangle of wet curls and tight, sopping heat. It’s the planes of Prompto’s stomach, exposed for him earlier, those lightly-defined abs, stretch marks and freckles and jutting hipbones.

Noct manages to feel vaguely guilty when it takes him a couple of days to email Luna. It’s not that he’s putting it off, it’s just… well, okay, maybe he’s putting it off. He doesn’t know _why_ it feels so weird to send her a message. He should be excited for this, right? He’s only had a small crush on her for years, since they met as kids.

 

The guilt is definitely worse when on Sunday night, after a weekend of hanging around in the apartment and binging Overwatch with Prompto, Noct finally drags his laptop out to send a proper email that isn’t hastily keyed up on his phone. He settles in bed with his laptop on his lap, and he realizes as he scans through his email that, in fact, Luna’s actually the one to email him last. She emailed him the first day of classes, asking how things were going – it’s an opened email, so Noct definitely opened it and briefly skimmed it. He just hasn’t gotten around to reading it yet, oops.

 

“Hey Prom?” Noct calls over to the next room, where his best friend is getting ready for bed.

 

“Noct?” Prompto shuffles over, and leans in the doorway, and Noct lifts his eyes. There’s a hot jolt when he realizes Prompto is shirtless, and his hair is wet and tousled – apparently he’s just finished up in the shower. And goddamn, he looks _good._ Prompto is all lean muscle from the running he does, lightly defined abs, jutting hips with those faded stretch marks that Noct really likes running his hands over. There’s an urge, a very strange urge, to get up, to pin Prompto up against the damn wall and lick away that little trail of water that’s edging down the side of his neck. Fuck.

 

“I…” Noct realizes he’s staring, and he jerks his head down, back to the laptop screen, “I gotta email Luna. I’m… bad at small talk, you know that,” he laughs a little awkwardly. It makes no fucking sense, because before Prompto, Luna’s always been the only other person who _gets_ Noctis. She’s never been hard to talk to before. Why is Noctis suddenly making this a thing? Why is every part of his life somehow turning difficult? He’s the one being dumb.

 

Prompto shuffles into the room, and sits down at the edge of Noct’s bed, and that shouldn’t be such a _thing_ either. Noct tenses, and Prompto shoots him a look, “Sorry. Is this… okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Noct says quickly. Too quickly, and it’s obvious he’s covering up his discomfort, the way he’s shifting a little, the way his heart is suddenly thumping in his chest, wild and frantic against his ribcage. He’s confused by it all – he’s spent the entire weekend curled up on the couch with Prompto, after all, their bodies close and pressed together. But somehow, it’s different, this little glimpse of skin is driving him absolutely wild.

 

“Can I?” Prompto scoots a little closer, and Noct has a moment of panic. Then, Noct realizes he’s asking permission to read over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” again, a little too quick of a response, and Noct shifts, because, fuck, even if his mind doesn’t really know what he wants, his _body_ definitely does. Goddamnit. He’s glad he has his laptop settled over his legs, because he doesn’t need to get into _this_ again. He’s still very much determined to keep things normal, which probably means they shouldn’t mess around anymore.

 

But there’s still that damn blossoming of warmth as Prompto shifts close, as his bare shoulder brushes against Noct’s. Prompto’s eyes are bright as he leans in, and damnit, he _smells_ fantastic – Prompto’s got this fancy shampoo and even fancier soap that he uses, in stark contrast of Noct’s three-in-one, bare minimum effort required stuff – it makes Noct’s head spin and a hand clench at the bedsheets.

 

“She’s just asking how your first week of school went,” Prompto points out, scanning over the email, “dude, she sent this like over a week ago. You better reply, Noct, else she won’t wanna go out on a date with you,” he’s laughing a little, and it’s definitely Noct’s imagination that the laugh seems a little forced.

 

“I know what she’s asking,” Noct grumps back, and he aims a swat at Prompto’s shoulder. Big mistake, because the little burst of contact, of Prompto’s warm, damp skin against his fingertips is another rush of sensation, another little explosion of something resembling arousal. “I just don’t know what to _tell_ her.”

 

“Tell her the truth?” Prompto shrugs, “first week went okay. Talk about your classes.”

 

“She doesn’t care about my classes. She’s _graduating_ this year,” Noct points out. Luna has never cared about the age difference between them in the past. She’s always treated Noctis like he’s not some dumb kid with dumb teenage problems, and that’s part of why they get along so well. She’s really… just very, very kind. And hard-working, and smart. Luna spent a lot of her childhood in hospitals, too, and she fell a few years behind in school, but she made most of them up once she started to feel better. She’s still a little behind, but after dealing with the shitty hand life handed her? Yeah, she’s badass. Noct kinda-sorta really admires her.

 

Prompto shrugs, and Noct can feel it, where their shoulders are still pressed together. It’s a simple little gesture and it shouldn’t… send another wave of heat, the way it does. “She’s asking, isn’t she? So she totally cares, Noct.”

 

“I guess,” Noct still sounds skeptical. Really, he doesn’t know what he wants to say. His first week of school went… well. He lost his virginity to his best friend. A dude. He had sex with a dude. That’s how Noct is going to remember his first week of college now, isn’t it? He’s… not sure how he feels about that. Does he regret it? He probably should regret it. He doesn’t think he does, he’s just not sure _what else_ has happened, it’s all faded into the background as inconsequential, pointless stuff. But he can’t tell Luna about any of this, can he?

 

“I can’t write with you looking over my shoulder,” Noct says suddenly, and the words are a little harsher than they should be. Oops. He follows it up with a nudge to Prompto’s shoulder and an only-slightly-forced grin. Really, Prompto’s just distracting as all hell, with the heat of his body, that damn naked torso, the smell of him—it’s all… overwhelming.

 

“Thanks, Noct,” Prompto rolls his eyes, but he gives Noct a playful shove and shifts off the bed, “just reminding you, you _asked_ for help.”

 

“And you did help,” Noct offers back. Maybe not entirely true, but Noct’s less concerned about this email than he is other things now, so… well, that’s something. “Can you close my door? I’m tired.”

 

“Whatever,” Prompto leans in the doorway for a moment, and the _look_ he shoots Noct is cause for a moment’s panic. Noct’s pretty sure Prompto is totally on to him. There’s a horrible, lingering moment between them, where the look they’re exchanging is pure heat, pure emotion, all bubbling under the surface and shared within a few seconds of eye contact. It’s a moment where Noct’s mouth opens, and he almost invites Prompto to come back to his bed. That’ll be a descent into hell though, and it’ll make the entire past week of his efforts absolutely useless.

 

“Night, Noct,” Prompto says instead, and he smiles a smile that sends another rush of emotion through Noct – but it’s a different sort of feeling, because his best friend’s smile almost looks _sad._

 

“Night,” Noct replies, and Prompto closes the door behind him, leaves Noct alone. The hallway light is on, but with his door closed, it’s just a sliver of light showing through the crack at the bottom. Noct’s curtains are drawn shut, and it’s dark and empty in his room, except for the glare of his laptop screen.

 

_hay luna,_

_sry I spaced on replying. It’s been a rly busy week – u know how first weeks of college go by now I bet, u have a few years on me. my classes are ok. prom and I share a few, so that’s cool, we can study together and he gets me up and to class on time. prom and I are settled into our new place and that’s going ok too. he works a lot so kinda lonely, but it’s nice being on my own. btw, prom says hi. we took a selfie together for u lol_

_I was visiting dad earlier. he’s dragging me to tenebrae for some work thing he’s gotta do next month. i know we haven’t gotten the chance to see each other in a long time, was hoping maybe u’d wanna meet up while i’m there??? it seems like it’s gonna be a rly boring trip so figured I’d ask, if u aren’t too busy._

_no worries if u got stuff going on, totally get it!_

_let me know k?_

_noct_

_[attached: img00352.jpg]_

Noct stares over the email a few times. Several times. He thinks it sounds okay. He’s not good at writing emails. He hopes it’s casual and low-key enough, and he feels guilty because he _wants_ to see Luna, but he doesn’t really know if he wants to actually ask her out on a date. He thinks he probably should, and his dad’s gentle ribbing is fresh on his mind. Does his dad want him to date Luna? Is that his way of silently approving the ‘relationship’? Because if that’s the case… well, Noct really wants to make his dad proud, in a way he can’t even understand. It’s just this intangible desire that’s been out of reach his entire life.

 

Noct hits ‘send’ on the email. Did he talk about Prompto too much? He probably did. He doesn’t know, because when it comes down to it… apart from school, really, Prompto’s all he knows. Sure, he hangs out with Gladio and Ignis sometimes, but it’s not the _same._

 

He shuts his laptop and snuggles down in the blankets. Noct usually has absolutely no troubles falling asleep.

 

Except his cock is half-hard between his thighs because _why_ does stupid Prompto with his stupid no shirt look so good? Noct’s doing his best to ignore it, but of course, as with all things, the more he tries to ignore it, the more prominent it is, pressing up against his stomach as he shifts, catching against the fabric of his sweatpants, until he’s lifting his hips and tugging them down to bunch up against his thighs. Noct gives up, and maybe it’s just because they’ve gone from messing around to absolutely _nothing,_ no kissing, no touching, since they’d had sex. That’s probably why his body is reacting so fiercely to absolutely nothing.

  
Noct bites down on the corner of his pillow as he rolls onto his side and fists at his erection. He tries to let his thoughts drift to Luna. He hasn’t _seen_ her in person in years, but they’ve exchanged photos. Noct doesn’t really do a lot of the social media stuff – that’s Prompto’s thing – but he has accounts that exist solely to re-add the people who follow him, and she’s got some stuff online, too. She’s pretty. Noct knows she’s pretty.

 

He just can’t picture it though. He can see her face, but as soon as he tries to picture what she looks like, under those cute little dresses she always wears? It all fades away. Noct pictures kissing her, soft and wet and nice, like how he kisses Prompto. Except when he pictures Luna’s eyes? They aren’t quite the right shade of blue. Her hair isn’t right either, shorter and spikier, and her cheekbones are just a little too high, speckled with freckles, and…

 

Damnit.

 

Noct’s thinking about his damn best friend again, he’s thinking about _Prompto,_ and his cock twitches under his fingers at that. He thinks about how it felt, being pressed down into Prompto’s tiny little too-small bed, how it felt having him inside, and there’s fire pooling in Noct’s belly. He bites back a quiet sigh, because he wants Prompto in his bed, a heavy weight against him as they grind together. Or maybe it’s Prompto’s lips wrapped around his leaking erection that he wants. Or – and Noct _moans,_ the pillow not quite muffling it – he wants to switch it around, like Prompto hinted at. He wants to be inside, tight heat all wrapped up around his throbbing cock.

 

He’s in so much goddamn trouble, because Noct’s not even pretending that he’s thinking of Luna anymore. There’s no illusion of soft curves, of breasts pressed against his chest, of a tangle of wet curls and tight, sopping heat. It’s the planes of Prompto’s stomach, exposed for him earlier, those lightly-defined abs, stretch marks and freckles and jutting hipbones. It’s Prompto’s cock Noct’s thinking about, and it’s reducing him to a twitching, dripping mess as he jerks himself off.

 

He ends up on his stomach, rutting into the sheets as he strokes himself with the pace he likes, thumb digging into the wet slit of his cock. Noct’s got his face buried in the pillow, and it’s keeping him quiet. He should be more aware of the fact that Prompto’s only a room over. Noct wonders, vaguely, if Prompto can hear him. And fuck, he’s so turned on, that he _hopes_ his best friend can hear, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He wants Prompto to be touching himself too. Noctis can see it so perfectly in his mind, too. Prompto, sprawled out on that too-small bed, legs spread, thighs parted, as he strokes himself in time with Noct’s hand.

 

It’s probably scary how well Noct can picture it. Prompto’s head tossed back, hair falling over half-lidded eyes, the red flush hiding the smattering of freckles that brush his cheekbones. His stomach would be clenching, the way it did when Prompto gets close. Thighs shaking, too, cock hard and drooling over that stomach Noct loves so much. Prompto likes to be touched roughly – Noct’s figured that much out, and he wishes he could have his hand closed around his best friend’s erection instead of his own.

 

He's got that picture in his head, the mental image of his damn best friend getting off to _this,_ when he comes. Noct twitches and jerks, hips moving sharply as he spills over his hand, over the bottom of his t-shirt, across the sheets. He makes a huge mess, but he’s too concerned with keeping his face pressed into the pillow, to keep from moaning out Prompto’s name.

 

Noct should change the sheets. He should clean up. Instead, he rolls over to the other side of the bed, the one that hasn’t been ruined by his orgasm. He wipes his hand on his shirt, before he tugs it over his head and chucks it across the room to lay discarded against a wall. His chest heaves as he comes down, but he feels… hell, he feels both better and worse at the same time. The guilt hits him, like he’s run headlong into a fucking brick wall.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis says aloud, to absolutely nobody. He gropes blindly in the darkness for his cell phone,  and the screen lights up the room as he thumbs over the lock screen. His notifications tell him that there’s a text from Prompto, sent four minutes ago: “night Noct ❤”

 

Noctis groans, but he still keys back a quick ‘night prom’. He turns on a podcast, some dumb comedy one that is generally lighthearted and normally always cheers him up. Just his luck, they’re debating the nature-vs-nurture aspect of sexuality.  He gives it a few minutes, then gives up and turns on music instead. Noct’s not sure how long it takes him to fall asleep, but he’s at least halfway through his favourite playlist before the world fades away into darkness.

 

The next day, Noct waits until Prompto leaves for work before he throws his sheets in the washing machine. And, for once, Noct fully appreciates Ignis for ensuring that they got an apartment with their own washer and dryer.

 

\---

 

The guilt grows deeper when Luna doesn’t take nearly as long to respond to Noct’s email as it took him. In fact, she responds the next day, though Noct takes a few days to actually bother to check his email and realize this much. He _really_ needs to connect his college email to his main one, apparently, because he’s only been checking his school one now since that’s where assignments and emails from professors go. Prompto keeps bugging him about it. Prompto also keeps reminding Noct that he should probably check his social media accounts too – he’s getting a few friend requests here and there from classmates, especially in the classes that require group work. Noct isn’t a fan of that social media bullshit though. It’s too much work, not to mention his last name is recognizable enough that he gets a _ton_ of requests that are either outright spam, or cute girls he doesn’t even know trying to make a quick connection.

 

It’s over a late dinner when Noct finally checks his email though. He sees Luna’s name in his unread messages, and he pauses. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating. There’s a strange feeling in his stomach, and it’s doing flips and making his palms sweaty. Noctis puts his phone down, and the look Prompto gives him is a weird one; Noct’s got a really strange expression, though he doesn’t realize it.

 

“Everything okay, buddy?” Prompto asks. Ignis stopped by earlier when they were both in class and left them a big Tupperware container of leftover lasagna to reheat. Noct’s expertly picked out the chunks of stewed tomato, but he likes the rest of it. Prompto’s occasionally reaching across the table to spear up said tomato chunks with his fork. Noct, personally, finds that disgusting, but it’s not like he’s going to eat it anyway.

 

“Yeah,” Noct says quickly, “email from Luna.”

 

“Oh,” Prompto looks momentarily dejected, or maybe that’s just Noct’s imagination (it’s not). He brightens almost immediately though. “Score yourself a hot date?”

 

“Dunno,” Noct doesn’t know how to feel about all of that. “Didn’t open it.”

 

“Well now I’m gonna be waiting in suspense,” Prompto groans through a mouthful of pasta that he’ll later lament about eating. Noct smiles a bit at that – his best friend will definitely be up far too early in the morning to run off all the carbs. At least in certain regards, Prompto is predictable. Even if sometimes, his best friend confuses the hell out of Noctis.

 

“Guess so,” Noct keeps his expression neutral, cool, collected. Even if inside, there’s a storm brewing. He’s got a strange reluctance about it; he’s excited to see Luna, so he doesn’t quite understand it. Noct just knows that maybe he’s putting too much weight into this situation, and maybe he doesn’t want it to be a _date._ It’s too much pressure.

 

Maybe Prompto knows Noct better than Noctis gives him credit for, too. Living together has them pretty in-tune with each other. Or, well, in some aspects, at least, because there’s some stuff they are sure as hell still trying to fumble through. Either way, his friend shoots him another smile. “You wanna split one of those brownies that’s in the freezer?”

 

They had collectively agreed that pot was Not for them, after the first incident. Prompto had eaten _way_ too many brownies, and Noct… well, he has minor anxiety issues to begin with, and once the wonder of that stupid show they’d watched had started to fade, there’d been the creeping paranoia. Ignis, of course, blamed it on the poor quality strand that Prompto had procured from his mystery source – a kid who Prompto decided, ultimately, he didn’t want to hang out with, anyway, and Noct wasn’t too upset about that.

 

But they’re college freshmen, and apparently they’re willing to give it a second chance, because Noct shrugs a half-hearted consent. “I’ll split one with you if you want.” Mostly, he wants to get his mind off Luna, and reading that stupid email.

 

It’s probably a dumb idea, and Noctis knows that. Prompto shuffles up from the kitchen table, gathers up their plates – Noct’s only picking at the remnants of the pasta on his plate, and it’s mostly just discarded lumpy vegetables anyway at this point. Their plates go in the sink, Prompto giving them a half-assed rinse, and then he’s in the freezer, pulling out a brownie. Ignis packaged them up, and they’re already portioned off and wrapped in parchment paper.

 

They split the treat in half, and Noct heats his up in the microwave and adds a giant scoop of ice cream to it. Prompto rolls his eyes but he’s definitely watching Noct eat with longing, even as he mutters something about calories. They end up curled up on the couch, blanket tugged around their prone forms. It’s definitely a bad decision, because they both have homework to do. They have class in the morning, too.

 

It’s an even worse idea because there’s that anxious buzz tugging at Noct’s mind before the brownie kicks in. It makes him fidgety, makes him tuck the blanket around him a little tighter. Prompto’s put on a show that Noct isn’t really watching. He’s more focused on the warmth radiating off Prompto’s body. On the way his best friend has an arm thrown around his shoulders, and the way his fingers are drumming at his shoulderblade, soft and comforting and damn _distracting._

“Think I’m high, Prom,” Noct says lazily when he realizes he’s been entirely focused on that strange pattern of fingers brushing against him for… a really long time. It’s trance-like. It shouldn’t be so nice. He shouldn’t like that steady beat against his skin as much as he does. He sighs and he tries to shrug away, but instead he snuggles up closer to his best friend, and it’s comfortable and warm.

 

“Me too,” Prompto agrees, laughing quietly and nuzzling his face into Noct’s hair, “you’re soft. And you smell good.”

 

“You’re dumb,” Noct’s still aware of that panic edging in around the corners of his mind. He has a feeling that the weed was probably a really bad idea, because if it takes hold of his insecurities here, he’s in for a bad trip. Lucky, he has Prompto, and his best friend seems to be keeping it at bay, holding it off. As always, Prompto’s the center of Noct’s entire world. It’s just easier to think that way, when he’s inebriated and fuzzy.

 

Prompto laughs again, outright _giggles,_ and he gives Noct’s shoulder a good squeeze, pausing that rhythm for just a moment to tug his best friend closer, “Noctis Caelum, if I’m _dumb,_ you’re a fucking rock.”

 

“A comfortable rock though,” Noct shoots back, and he descends into a fit of giggles too. For all the attempts he’s made at avoiding Prompto over the past week or so, it’s all gone to hell, because Noct feels really good, really content here, cuddled in a bundle of warm limbs and soft blankets with his best friend. This is where he’s supposed to be, right? When they sober up, Noct will put the walls back up, he’ll go and he’ll finally read the stupid email Luna’s sent him, but right now, this is easy. It’s natural.

 

“I’m scared to see Luna,” Noct admits, and he’s gone enough that he can tip his head to the side and nuzzle into Prompto’s neck and it doesn’t feel weird. “I don’t know how I feel about her, Prom. I don’t know how I feel about _anything.”_

Prompto stiffens for a moment, then he relaxes again and tips his head back, gives Noct more room to press in close, though Noct can feel the thrum of Prompto’s pulse against his throat and it’s rapidly beating. “I know Noct,” Prompto says, and there’s a hint of sadness creeping in there, even through the high, “I don’t think anyone can help you there. You gotta figure that out on your own, buddy.”

 

Noct doesn’t think he can figure it out on his own, but he doesn’t press the issue, just cuddles up close until he starts to come down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are back to my regular updating status, hooorayyyy!!! <3 
> 
> noct is like me, in that his anxiety issues tend to flare up when he's got some low-grade bud in him. he's just lucky enough that prompto was there to save him from the full-blown panic attack he might have had otherwise.
> 
> also, this story broke 100 pages in word. yasss. i'm hoping we're at the midway point but let's be honest i'll keep writing this monster till people stop reading lol. <3 as always, tumblr @destatree and i thrive on kudos/comments so ilu yes.


	13. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Noct is beginning to realize though, the first few sparks of self-awareness lighting in his mind, is that maybe they're all a little bit fucked up from this. 
> 
> The others, of course, have just managed to adjust a whole lot better than Noct has.

Plans are made.

 

Noct musters up the courage to read Luna’s email, and she seems enthusiastic to catch up. They make plans, October 24th, to go out together. So a month away, give or take. He’s tentative excited, but that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach won’t subside. Noct’s dad forwards him flight information. He won’t have to miss class, because of fall break, so that much is a relief. Not that Noct is necessarily opposed to having to miss school – it’s more the thought of having to approach professors about missing time, and arranging to get notes in classes he doesn’t share with his best friend.

 

Prompto doesn’t press him for details on the trip, and Noct doesn’t offer them. He doesn’t know why, but anything involving his dad still has that aura of weirdness, and Noct doesn’t really want to talk about it. He has a feeling this trip is going to be awkward, but maybe he’ll get an idea of what his dad thinks of everything. Ignis seems optimistic that this will be a good father/son bonding experience. Noct thinks that’s a little hopelessly optimistic, and that if he was gonna bond with his dad, he would have already made some progress in that area.

 

The good thing about college life is that the routine gives Noct something to focus on. He ends up taking Aranea up on tutoring offers, and the days he spends in the library with the woman are oddly productive. They don’t talk about much. She’s tough on him, and she likes to poke fun at his apparent ‘obliviousness.’ Noct likes to call her an ‘old lady’ because even though she looks barely a day past twenty, he’s well aware that she’s closing in on thirty. It’s a good dynamic though, even if he’s _dying_ to ask about Ignis. Sometimes he thinks she smells like his cologne though, and maybe that’s proof enough.

 

Prompto picks up enough extra shifts at work that he’s fairly busy. Noct applies, half-heartedly, for a couple of part time jobs, but he also has a tendency to avoid answering unknown numbers, so he never gets any real follow up there. Slowly, their apartment fills up more and more with binders full of notes and printed out powerpoint slides with scribbled descriptions in the margins. The two still find time to curl up together on the couch and play video games together, or watch a movie, but… well, the awkwardness, maybe, has faded some.

 

“Hey Noct?” Prompto asks one day. It’s a Friday. It’s almost October now, and it’s been almost a month since The Incident, which is what Noct has started calling the whole sex thing. They’ve cuddled some, but there hasn’t been any awkward kissing, or making out, and that’s probably for the best. Definitely for the best. Okay, so maybe Noct breaks down sometimes and jerks off to the thought of his best friend. He’s getting it under control though.

 

“Hm?” It’s shortly after noon, and Noctis is eating granola, and he’s not happy about it. Ignis hasn’t brought by the groceries yet, and he’s out of cereal. All that’s in the cupboard is some maple praline granola that Prompto bought. It’ll do in a pinch, but the texture’s all off, different from cereal. Noct doesn’t like the way it stays crunchy and gross in milk, but it tastes sugary enough that he’ll deal. Anyway, they’re both sitting at the kitchen table, though Prompto hasn’t made any efforts to get himself lunch. His best friend’s just finished up his class for today, and Noct has a feeling that there’s a Talk coming. He’s not sure how he feels.

 

“I’ve got a date,” Prompto says, and the world comes crashing down.

 

Well. It doesn’t really. Obviously. But it nearly turns into one of those over-the-top, dramatic moments from a bad anime. Noct sputters and coughs on his milk, and he’s lucky it doesn’t come out of his nose. He puts his spoon down, and looks at his best friend, who is leaning against the kitchen counter eating a protein bar.

 

“With who?” Noct’s voice sounds funny. Accusatory, almost. The hell?

 

“Girl I met at work,” Prompto has a strange expression on his face. Their eyes meet, just momentarily, before Noct looks down and makes himself very interested in stirring around the mess of granola and milk in his bowl. “Is… that okay, Noct?”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Noct’s talking way too fast, and his voice still has that sharp edge to it. He’s being selfish, a petulant brat, because he doesn’t _want_ his best friend to have a girlfriend. That’s a stupid thought, and Noct might be an idiot, but he’s self-aware enough to know that they’re at that age where they should be having relationships and it’s not just all about their friendship anymore. That’s the goal, after all, right? That’s why they did that _stuff_ they were doing. That’s why Noct is so nervous to see Luna. He’s just afraid of the natural change. Right?

 

“If you don’t want me to…” Prompto’s saying, slowly, carefully.

 

Noct shakes his head, “I’m your best friend. My job to encourage you,” he forces a smile, and he’s good at masking his emotions. He pulls it off. Prompto is still giving him a look, one that’s a mixture of skepticism and concern, but Noct just shrugs and goes back to breakfast. Noct’s wondering why the hell this bothers him so much. His stomach’s doing flips, and he suddenly has absolutely no appetite.

 

“…. Noct,” Prompto’s carefully saying his best friend’s name, and it’s in a way that both makes Noct’s stomach twist like someone’s driving a knife in his gut, and in a way that sends a strange sort of elation, like he wants Prompto to say his name like that _again,_ and never stop. “.. we can be whatever you want us to be, y’know.”

 

Noctis pauses and he stares down at his not-cereal again. He takes a long moment to compose himself. Part of him wants to challenge Prompto, to ask exactly what’s the meaning behind those vague words. Another part of Noctis wants to think on it. A bigger part, though, wants to shut it all down, because that’s what’s _safe._ Noct is comfortable with Prompto, his best friend. If things change, that’s inviting a whole mess of things, that’s inviting his best friend to realize he’s gone too deep and to realize he doesn’t like what he sees at all.

 

“We’re friends, right?” Noct says instead of voicing any of the other thoughts trying to invade his mind. He lifts his eyes again, and he steels his expression, and the smile he offers Prompto is damn near sincere. He’s a fucking idiot, of course, but Noct’s pretty sure this is the right thing to do.

 

“Right,” Prompto doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “… I gotta go to work, Noct.”

 

Noct has a distinct feeling that he fucking blew it, as Prompto makes quick of throwing on a pair of Converse and dashes out the door with a little wave and a half smile. Especially when he realizes it’s Friday, and Prompto doesn’t work today. Great. Now his best friend is avoiding him. Realistically, Noct’s the one doing most of the avoiding, and he’s just too dumb to see how tense the situation has gotten at times, but… well. He’s not smart.

 

Noct realizes quickly, too, that he doesn’t wanna be alone right now. First, he tries to play Overwatch, but he’s in an absolutely trash mood. He gets into a heated argument with his team because they’re being idiots and he can’t heal them. Noct finishes the match, but it’s just made things worse. He decides to take a shower, but his hand keeps creeping down between his legs and thoughts of Prompto keep pushing their way in. Noctis ends up blasting the water on cold and he miserably dries off, shivering and grumbling about absolutely nothing. Then he tries to send an email to Luna – he owes her one, and he’s gotten a little better at responding, at least – but they always include a silly selfie with their emails. And the lighting’s just all off and Noct’s hair looks trashy, so he ends up trashing all the photos he’s attempting to take. All the saved ones he has on his camera roll are him and Prompto, and right now he doesn’t wanna look at his best friend’s dumb cute freckled face.

 

So, after stomping around the apartment for a while, Noct decides to go for a walk. It’s almost October, after all, and the crisp fall weather is kicking in. It’s a chilly day, with a nice, strong ocean breeze coming in, so Noct bundles up in a hoodie and jeans and leaves the apartment. He’s got no real destination in mind, either. He just knows that being inside isn’t working. Prompto tends to go for long runs when he’s upset, and… Noct isn’t about to start fucking running, because running is trash. Maybe he should go to the gym, but that idea crosses his mind after he’s already left the apartment and made it a couple of blocks away from his place. He stops and ponders the idea, but ultimately, the thought of going back to his place and packing up a gym bag is exhausting. So Noct presses forward. He stops and buys a hot chocolate at the coffee shop – totally self-indulgent – and he doesn’t even _really_ want it, but it still makes him feel a little bit better.

 

After a while of aimless wandering, Noct realizes he’s found himself in Ignis’s neighbourhood. It’s not an intentional decision, either; now that he’s here, though, it’s exactly where he wants to be. It goes back to his childhood, Noct supposes. Whenever he’s been in need of something, when he’s hurting or scared or afraid, it’s always been Ignis he turns to. It should probably be his dad, but… well. That part is complicated. When it comes down to it though, his older friend is the closest thing Noctis has to a mother-figure, and is maybe the person he relies on most in the world.

 

Noct probably should call. He should definitely at least text, since last time he showed up unannounced, there was the Aranea thing. But hell, even Aranea isn’t quite as terrifying as she used to be, now that Noct’s gotten to know her some. He ends up at Ignis’s front door, and Noct’s ringing the bell before he can second-guess himself and leave, and he waits, hands stuffed in his pockets, hoping maybe a little too desperately that Ignis is home.

 

\---

 

_Noctis has a lot of dreams._

_Most of the dreams are pretty nice ones._

_Noct’s never known his mom. She’s been dead a long time now, and all that exists are the photos of her that his dad keeps around the house. He talks about her sometimes. Noct might be young, but he knows how hard it is on his dad to talk about her. He dreams about her now though, and she looks just like he remembers from the pictures. That makes sense; there are days when Noct’s dad is gone that he simply sits on the living room floor, one of the photos in hand, and he stares at her portrait. Noctis looks a lot like his mom. He has the shape of her eyes, her cheekbones, her smile._

_He should be happier to see her now. He is happy, he’s so happy, but she looks sad. She’s got Pryna with him, too, Noct’s dog that’s been with them as long as he can remember. Pryna, she died a couple of months ago, and that’s another void that’s opened up in Noct’s life. He’s got way more sadness than a little boy should, but… this is all he’s known. His dad’s busy, and he tries, but there’s something missing in Noct’s life._

_He tries to tell his mom that he wants to stay with her for a little while. They’re in a little house, and it’s overlooking the ocean, far away from Insomnia, maybe across the sea from where his dad is. She’s shaking her head though, and Pryna is nudging at the small of Noct’s back, pushing him away. He’s gotta go back to his dad, and he doesn’t know if he wants to._

_Funny though, because a flying cat appears. Cats can’t fly. And Noct can’t fly, either, but he’s soaring back across the ocean, with wings that shine bright on his back and flutter in the strong winds that sweep across the roaring sea below. It’s hard, but Noct keeps pushing forward, and he’s mostly convinced this is the right decision. There’s that tug though, that ever-present draw to go back to his mom and Pryna, because life seems happy and simple there._

 

Noct’s dad’s been sitting at his son’s bed side for weeks now. He’s been out since the car accident, and Regis Caelum left in the middle of a very important meeting the moment he got the phone call. He’s probably missed out on an important business deal, but none of that fucking matters.

 

“It’s my son, he’s been gravely injured,” Regis had managed, and his voice was cracking and breaking despite years of practice, of honing his image and becoming the picture of perfection, a strong and impenetrable business man with an expert poker face. It had all felt absolutely worthless in that moment though, because Regis thinks his son is dead, and he’s failed his wife, and he’s failed Noctis, and what else is left?

 

So they’re here now, in Tenebrae, after he’s paid a small fortune out of pocket to have Noct transferred here, to the best hospital there is. It’s terrifying, watching his small child in a bed that’s too big for him. Noct’s surrounded by complex looking medical devices, he’s got tubes and wires attached everywhere. He’s breathing on his own again – the doctors say that is excellent news – but he needs a feeding tube, and even though the bruises from the accident have long faded from brown to blue to green and then nothing at all, Regis thinks his son looks pale, ghostly, barely even with them anymore. There are, of course, the spinal injuries to deal with, the fact that Noct may never walk again, but Regis thinks they can deal with that. They can work through that, he just needs his son to wake up first. He can’t give up hope, but he’s starting to wonder if Noct will ever wake up at all. Even when they transfer him from the ICU to his own private room, chairs drawn up for the family, Regis is… well, it’s hard to hold up hope.

 

Clarus has stayed by Regis’s side through it all, and his oldest friend carries one hell of a burden, but he does it without question, he shoulders it, as he always had. He’s brought the kids with him. There’s a tutor for Gladio and Ignis, and Iris spends her time being shuffled around the hospital and the flat they’ve rented, from sitter after sitter, to Clarus, to back again. Regis offers to watch her, but he breaks down crying the first and only time Clarus takes him up on it. Regis loves the little girl something fierce, but there’s just… he can’t do it. He finds it’s too hard to watch the little girl, so full of life and love and wonder, her eyes bright and her chatter bubbly, when his own son is cold and silent in a hospital bed.

 

He feels terrible, because little Ignis is the one who finds them. Ignis is barely ten years old, but he takes Iris by the hand, leads her down to the hospital cafeteria, slowly and carefully with her aimless, bumbling little steps, and he calls Clarus and gets him to come pick up his daughter.

 

Clarus is holding the business together, too, because Regis finds he can’t do that, either. He’s not sure where this powerful man has gone, because without his son, he’s a total shell, he can barely function, can barely sleep.

 

He hasn’t changed his clothes in several days. The doctors have told him Noct’s condition is improving, something about increased brain activity and complicated medical terms that Regis has come to learn, to understand, over their time here. Regis is holding desperately to the hope, but it feels like this is his last resort. If nothing happens here – well, there’s no coming back. He smells of sweat, and his face is worn and creased from lines and wrinkles that didn’t exist before.

 

“Reg,” Clarus’s voice is rough with emotion, and he’s got a hand on his oldest friend’s shoulder. Regis wants to shrug the hand away, but he can’t, because he hurts, and any sort of affection is desperately, sorely needed. “You gotta take this call.”

 

“Take a message for me,” Regis is exhausted. He’s got his laptop and he’s trying to get work done, but most of it’s been delegated to other people. He _knows_ he’s falling behind on everything, and he knows his shareholders are upset with him, but his kid is hurt, who cares what a stupid board of directors thinks, in the long run?

 

“I can’t,” Clarus sighs, and Regis looks away from Noct, for just a moment. His son has started moving around some in the bed – another good sign, they’ve said – and he’s been particularly restless this morning. Regis is clinging to hope, to the thought that maybe this means Noct is going to wake up. When Regis sweeps his eyes up over his oldest friend, he’s reminded of how starkly this has affected them all. Clarus looks exhausted, he looks older too, and he’s got a slightly receding hairline, probably brought on by the stress of carrying Regis’s empire on his shoulders.

 

“I’ve been trying, Reg, but it’s about that big Altissian deal we’re trying to close,” Clarus offers his phone out to Regis, and the look in his eyes is apologetic, but his tone is firm, “we’ve been jerking them around for weeks. They don’t want to deal with me, they want you. We’re gonna lose this if you can’t get it together Reg… the board will vote you out… this is _your_ company.”

 

Regis wants to say fuck his company, because he’s been on business trips for half of Noct’s life, and maybe if he made a bit of time for his son, maybe if he hadn’t gone on this particular trip – no, _definitely,_ if he hadn’t gone on this trip – his son wouldn’t be here like this. Broken and quiet and so small. But… Regis can’t bear to think about losing his child and his company in one straight cruel roll of the dice. He’s put too much of his life into this.

 

“Let’s make it quick,” Regis pulls himself out of the chair, and his legs shake and give a little from the effort of it. He hasn’t slept, he needs a shower, he can’t remember when he last ate, and he’s been sitting in this chair for hours. Clarus curls an arm around his oldest friend to help him out of the room. It’s just Noctis then – Noct, and Ignis, who’s been sleeping at the foot of the bed for a while now, his glasses askew and his cheek flat down on the pages of the book he’s been reading. The doctors, at first, frowned upon Ignis climbing into bed with Noct, but there’s something about the sincerity of the boy that won them over, and they’ve stopped protesting by now.

 

Ignis stirs though, because Noct is restless. He yawns, straightens his glasses and sits up. There’s an air of solidarity about the boy, and he frowns because he realizes he’s committed a cardinal sin and broken the spine of his book when he fell asleep on it.

 

Those thoughts all fly away though, because Noct is making a soft sound. Ignis scoots himself up, and he’s probably breaking a hospital rule or ten, because he kneels on an IV drip and elbows Noct in the shoulder in his efforts to get up close.

 

“Noct?” Ignis’s voice is quiet, hopeful, and very sincere.

 

There’s no response, but Ignis’s steely eyes are fixed on his small little friend’s face, and then, miraculously, Noct opens his eyes. His gaze is bleary, not at all the usual vivid blue sharpness, but he’s awake, and _conscious._

“Iggy?” Noct says quietly, uncertainly, and his voice is cracked and hoarse and tiny – he hasn’t used it for a while, and this throat is dry and aching. “I saw mom. Where’s _dad?”_

 

“He’s…” Ignis doesn’t know, because he slept through the exchange. He knows Regis hasn’t left Noct’s side for weeks, though, that he has a little roll out bed at the hospital that they’ve set out for him, that he showers awkwardly in the tiny attached bathroom, that Clarus or the kindly nurses deliver meals to him. But right now, Ignis has absolutely no idea where Regis went, and he frowns, reaches out to brush his fingers across Noct’s cheek. “Something probably came up,” Ignis says quietly, “want me to go get him, Noct? I’m sure he’s in the hospital.”

 

Noctis frowns, and the haziness clears from his eyes a little, though they seem brimming and wet, “no. It’s… no. Just stay with me, Iggy?”

 

“Of course, Noct,” Ignis doesn’t want to go anywhere, because he’s terrified, he’s known far more fear than a ten year old boy should, because Noctis is his best friend in the whole world, and Ignis has unwavering loyalty.

 

Regis comes back, and Noct’s fallen back asleep again, and he’s impossibly happy to hear that his son is awake. There’s a horrendous wave of guilt though, because in the end, Regis picked work again, didn’t he? He’s sealed the deal, of course; there’s never any doubt that he could. Regis can talk his way through anything if the resolve is there. The board of directors will be happy with the arrangement he’s made.

 

But Regis wonders what kind of a horrible father he is, as he sits back at his son’s side and reaches for Noct’s hand. Noctis responds with a soft sigh and tangles his smaller, delicate fingers with his father’s bigger ones, and holds on for dear life.

 

\---

 

Noct feels a little bit better, seated in Ignis’s living room. He always feels better when he’s surrounded by Ignis, after all. Ignis has always been a steady presence in his life, and he’s predictable, unchanging. He’s obsessed with neatness, with everything being orderly and in its place, and his apartment reflects that. There’s no clutter, everything pristine and put away. Even the small stack of college textbooks on the coffee table is lined up perfectly, stacked from thickest to thinnest.

 

Noct’s kicked his shoes off at the door, and as Ignis wanders into the living room, carrying a mug of steaming coffee, he pauses to kneel and carefully line Noct’s shoes up by the door. Noctis rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyway, because it’s calming. It’s nice knowing Ignis, because he _understands_ his friend. Well, for the most part.

 

Because, as Ignis sits down on the couch next to Noctis, Noct notices that the mug he’s carrying isn’t his usual one. It’s a black mug with white scripted letters and a picture of a fox that, when combined, say ‘oh for fox sake.’ Ignis has a horrible affinity for shitty puns, Noct is well aware of this, but Ignis isn’t the type of person to buy stupid punny mugs. As long as Noct’s known Ignis, he’s used the same simple black, narrow mug claiming that it keeps his coffee hot longer, and that there’s ‘simple elegance’ in it.

 

And of course, that sets Noct a little uneasy. He looks around again, and he notices a pair of stilettos tucked away on Ignis’s shoe rack. There’s a coat hanging from the coat rack that certainly doesn’t look like a men’s size. And, as pristine and clean as Ignis is, there’s definitely a strand of long, silvery hair stuck to the black decorative throw pillow Noct’s leaning against.

 

“You look upset,” Ignis comments idly, taking a sip of his coffee, before leaning forward to place it on the table – on a cup holder he’s also fetched, of course.

 

“I’m not upset,” Noct shoots back instantly, but his words are far too quick, and a little bit heated, and he flushes instantly, because he sure as hell isn’t fooling anyone, especially Ignis. He sighs, and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, because Ignis doesn’t say anything in response to that, but Noct knows that if he looks at his friend, he’ll be getting a sardonic smile and a quirk of an eyebrow. “… that obvious, huh?”

 

“Not to many,” Ignis replies smoothly, “but I’d like to think I know you better than that, after nearly twenty years.”

 

It has been that long, hasn’t it? Noct stares down at Ignis’s carpeted living room floor, and he reflects on that for a moment. Ignis has always been by his side when he needs him. And maybe in the past, Noct has shut him out. Hell, he’s gone through some crazy teenage years, and it’s only since he’s moved out that things have sort of settled down, in some regards. It’s all gone to hell in other ways, of course, but… Ignis has never given him reason to doubt him.

 

“I came by a few weeks ago,” Noctis confesses, and he hadn’t come here with this in mind. He wasn’t planning on bringing this up at all, but the words are tumbling out. “You weren’t home, but… Aranea was here.”

 

“Ah,” Ignis says. Noct’s still looking down, but he’s watching Ignis out of the corner of his eye. His friend, his advisor, leans forward to pick up his coffee, and he takes a sip of it, because it’s still too hot to properly drink. “I thought you might know. Aranea’s mentioned she’s been helping you with your math.”

 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Noct’s voice has gone a bit accusatory. He’s not sure why, but he feels anger bubbling up. Maybe it’s misplaced anger from all his frustrations with Prompto, with the fact that he’s _mad_ his best friend has a date. Maybe he’s mad at his dad, for asking him to go on this business trip, for suddenly being interested in his life. Maybe he’s mad that Luna’s agreed to meet up with him. Maybe… Noct doesn’t fucking know. He just knows that he can’t quite keep the harsh edge out of his voice.

 

“And what the hell’s up with you and _Gladio?_ You guys used to… do stuff?!” Noct’s probably making a fucking idiot of himself, but his fists are clenched, and he’s suddenly not looking at the floor anymore. He’s meeting Ignis’s eyes, burning passionate blue on steely grey behind the glasses, and Noct just feels himself growing even more pissed off. Ignis is _his_ friend, Ignis has always been by his side, and it feels like… what? Like Ignis has a whole fucking secret life that Noctis has no idea about?

 

“I thought we were friends Ignis, and then Aranea starts hanging around, and she knows all this _stuff_ about you, and then I asked Gladio and he knows _stuff,_ too, and everyone knows _everything_ except for me,” Noct is ranting now, and his words are coming out quick, before he can even think about them, his eyes burning and watering a little and he doesn’t care that his cheeks are flushed and his breath is coming rapidly now too. “You really don’t fucking care enough to tell _me?!”_

 

“Noct,” Ignis says quietly, and he’s regarding Noctis cooly, though maybe his knuckles are a bit white as he grips at the coffee mug just a bit too tightly. “Slow down.”

 

“Answer me then!” Noctis thinks maybe he should just storm off, but that’s defeating the purpose of why he’s here, isn’t it? His mind is racing, he’s _pissed,_ he’s mad at the world, at everything, he is so confused about everything. Is this what growing up is? Noctis doesn’t want to grow up, damnit, he wants to be back in high school, living in his dad’s condo, just hanging out with Prompto and being annoyed with Ignis and Gladio bossing him around. It’s so simple, and now everything seems really fucked up.

 

Of course, Ignis knows, because the coffee mug is set aside again, and then suddenly Ignis’s arms are wrapping around Noctis, tugging him closer. There’s the instant, swift urge to shove Ignis away, but goddamnit, it melts almost right away, because Noct’s pressing his cheek into Ignis’s shoulder, and he’s leaning into the embrace, his arms curling around Ignis’s waist. His oldest friend is always a goddamn calming, steady presence, warm and unyielding. Fuck, he’s crying isn’t he? Noctis realizes it with a start, and he just presses closer, scrunches his eyes shut and hopes Ignis doesn’t notice.

 

“I didn’t want to cause any undue stress,” Ignis says quietly, his voice a low rumble in Noct’s ear. “What happened with Gladio… that was a few isolated incidents. You aren’t the only one of us who grew up isolated, Noct. It was… nice, to find comfort in someone who understood.”

 

Noct isn’t expecting that particular answer. He lifts his head away from Ignis’s shoulder, gently disentangles himself from the embrace, but he stays close and nudges his shoulder up against Ignis’s. He hasn’t ever thought of it like that before. Noct has always tried not to be selfish. He’s never cared that he’s rich, that his dad is well-known and has lots of money. He’s tried not to take that all for granted. What Noct is beginning to realize though, the first few sparks of self-awareness lighting in his mind, is that maybe he’s taken Ignis and Gladio for granted. Ignis has been by his side, helping raise Noctis since he was just little too. Nobody really raised Ignis though. And Gladio… his dad’s always been just as absorbed by the company as Noct’s dad himself is. Maybe they’re all a little bit fucked up from this.

 

The others, of course, have just managed to adjust a whole lot better than Noct has.

 

“I didn’t think you were into guys,” Noctis admits quietly, because… well, maybe that’s what’s on his mind. On the surface, he’s pissed at Ignis and Gladio, his two oldest friends, for going behind his back and messing around. But isn’t that what he’s doing right now with his own friend? Noct’s mad at Ignis for concealing things, while Noct himself has this whole aspect of his life that’s… really complicated, that’s totally masked from everyone.

 

“The conversation has never arisen,” Ignis laughs a little at that, but Noct thinks it’s almost a nervous reaction, “truthfully, I haven’t a preference one way or the other. I can’t speak for Gladio, but I got the feeling that he leans more on the heterosexual side of the spectrum, all past experimentation aside. Though I also don’t think he’d be opposed to trying again.”

 

“I had no idea,” Noct’s flushing a little, because… wow. He really didn’t know. That’s a _thing_ people did? He’s known Prompto goes both ways for a while now, of course. But Noct had assumed it was just one of Prompto’s weird quirks. He’s never really entertained the notion that outside of the porn industry or whatever, people really could flip either way. That it’s _normal_ really? That Ignis, of all fucking people, the most put together person he knows, feels like that? Let alone Gladio?!

 

“Can you pick a less scary girlfriend at least?” Noct adds quickly, because he doesn’t want to get into his _own_ feelings, and he thinks that if they start talking about the whole sexuality thing any more, he might start making some awkward confessions of his own. Maybe, probably, he owes them to Ignis. But… talking about it, that makes it real, doesn’t it? Noct’s not sure where he stands. He definitely isn’t ready to face that.

 

“Oh, she’s not a girlfriend,” Ignis laughs again, and this time it’s a warm laugh, that little hint of nerves fading away because they’ve gotten through that part of the conversation. Noctis wonders if, hell, if Ignis thought maybe their friendship would change with that little confession. Is that why Ignis never told him? Or maybe it’s just to protect him – it’s… ugh. Noctis really hates growing up.

 

“Sure seems like she is,” Noct points out, and it’s only half-teasing, as he fixes his older friend with a playful glare. “Her stuff’s all over the place. She was here when you were out. Bet she’s here a _lot,_ huh Iggy? And she’s started being nice to me. Bet that’s all your fault, huh?”

 

It’s Ignis’s turn to frown now, and he masks it after a moment, but okay, maybe Noct knows Ignis some too, because that thought appears to give his advisor pause. Ignis’s eyes widen just a little, and he’s chewing at his lip, a nervous tick, for a split second before he smooths out again.

  
“That is complicated, Noct,” he says finally, but Noct wonders if it’s really that complicated. Or if he has any place to judge that,  to make any assumptions in that area, because isn’t that what Noctis keeps saying too? That it’s complicated? Even as he’s pissed about Prompto and his dumb date, even as he and Prompto keep falling asleep together, cuddling on the couch, even when his hand is working between his legs and it’s his best friend that he thinks about…

 

“Starting to learn _life_ is complicated,” Noct admits quietly.

 

“That may be the wisest thing you’ve ever said, Noct,” Ignis smiles at that, and he lets Noct lean a head on his shoulder while he sips at his coffee, and they fall into a comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got out of hand again, i'm sorry. 
> 
> it's been 3/4 written for like 2 days, blame persona 5, does this game EVER end??? I keep playing AND IT KEEPS ON GOING 
> 
> thanks for reading & the comments, ilu all. <3 i'd like to think noct is making progress! good boy noct u done good.


	14. Many Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto peeks around the door frame, his head poking into the room. “I did a thing.” 
> 
> “A thing?” Noct keeps his voice casual, his eyes flickering from the television to his best friend’s face, then back again. He has no idea what Prompto’s talking about, but when Prompto is vague like this, it isn’t usually a good thing. 
> 
> “A thing,” Prompto repeats. “Gotta promise you’ll be okay with it.”

Noctis feels better when he leaves Ignis’s. Well, a little better, at least. Ignis offers him the spare bedroom for the night, but Noct feels awkward about accepting. It’s less that he thinks he’s imposing on Ignis, and more that… well, that discussion hits home a little that things are changing. That he’s growing up, like it or not, and things don’t fall neatly into their designated places anymore.

 

When Noctis gets home, it’s to an empty apartment. Prompto’s still out wherever he is, and it’s probably a date. The conversation with Ignis had helped a little, but it makes Noctis wonder if he just shares such a connection with Prompto because his best friend, in some ways, represents how Noct himself feels. Prompto’s parents worked all the time too, after all, and it had been largely the two of them left to their own devices. They’d both been alienated from their peers, had grown up almost entirely alone until they’d found each other.

 

Ignis offered Noct leftovers, and Noct had attempted to refuse, but still somehow is carrying a huge bag of packed up pastries with him when he lets himself inside the dark apartment. He sets it down on the kitchen table, after opening the bag and snagging one. Noct makes his way back through the apartment, a cinnamon roll in his mouth, and tugs open his laptop.

 

He replies to an email Luna’s sent him. Then, for the first time since he’s started college, he bothers to check all his stupid social media accounts. He’s got new friend requests from people who’ve introduced themselves in classes. Noct ignores most of them, though he accepts the requests from the people in his marketing group.

 

Noct doesn’t mean to find himself typing Prompto’s name into the search bar. They’re mutual friends, of course, but he does it on a whim. Prompto’s always on these sites, has a bunch of apps for them. And he doesn’t _really_ know what he expects to see, but Prompto’s checked in at a little local cafe within the past hour. There’s a picture of a drink with a fancy picture drawn in the foam on top. Another picture of a flaky looking pastry posed artfully on a square plate. The third picture gives Noct pause, because it’s a selfie of Prompto and some _girl_ . She has one hand on his shoulder. The other hand is making a little peace symbol. Prompto’s grinning ear-to-ear with his tongue stuck out, and they’re both making dumb faces at the camera. Their cheeks are pressed a little too close together.

 

Noct’s stomach drops, and he slams shut his laptop and shoves it to the side. He doesn’t bother to undress. The cinnamon roll, still half eaten, gets discarded on the table next to the bed, probably getting crumbs everywhere. Noctis crawls under the blankets and he lies there for a really long time before he falls asleep.

 

Eventually, he hears Prompto come home, and Noct thinks maybe he should go see his best friend, but he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Prompto’s got lipstick stains on his neck or if he smells feminine, like some stupid college girl’s fragrant perfume.

 

\---

 

Maybe the only good thing about this whole situation is that it’s easier for Noct to distance himself. He mopes a couple of days, of course, and when Prompto asks why he’s upset, Noct mumbles something about not feeling well. On the third day of this, Noctis decides to join a gym, a proper one. Isn’t that what people do when they’re trying to move on? To _get over_ someone?

 

He texts Gladio for advice, and his friend is absolutely _thrilled_ to offer up some advice. It’s a little overwhelming, the wall of text he gets. Then, another rapid-fire text, “let’s get lunch.”

 

So Noct ends up at that same old noodle place that Gladio recommended – the one he usually frequents with Prompto – and okay, maybe it’s making his heart thump a little painfully. He doesn’t say that though, just watches Gladio through veiled boredom as his friend orders far more noodles than should be humanly possible for one man to eat.

 

“Thought noodles are bad for you,” Noct says idly as he orders his own food – and specifies ‘no veggies’ at least three times.

 

Gladio shrugs, “carb loading day. They’re the best days.”

 

“Those exist?” Noct has no idea the first thing about fitness, all his knows is that Prompto counts macros and enters calories obsessively in his phone, and sometimes when the three of them are together, he and Gladio will have long discussions about ‘if it fits your macros’ and the best brand of protein powder, and strength training versus cardio. A bunch of bullshit that Noct doesn’t really care about.

 

“Mmm,” Gladio grunts noncommittally, and his eyes lift as he gives Noct a lingering look, “where’s boy wonder?”

 

“Who?” Noct replies way too fast, and it’s definitely a bit of a slip up. He curses silently, and looks down at the table.

 

Gladio pauses for a moment, processing this, “Prompto?” his voice has taken on a slightly rough quality, though, and Noct worries if maybe he’s been found out. Not that there’s anything to find out, of course. His best friend is his best friend, after all. That’s all they are. And Gladio isn’t the type to judge any of the other stuff, based on conversations and what Noct’s come to learn.

 

“Oh,” Noct shrugs, and he tries his best to look casual and noncommittal. He pulls it off. Ignis would see through it, of course, but Gladio….? Well, maybe not. “Probably on a date. He’s been really busy lately. We both have.”

 

“Interesting,” Gladio barks out a laugh, and Noct feels the wave of relief rush over him. He’s definitely pulled off the disinterested, bratty disdain perfectly. Gladio bought it, and that’s an awkward conversation that they can totally avoid. “Didn’t know the kid could get a date.”

 

Noct shrugs, “think he has a girlfriend. Your dad tell you I’m going to Tenebrae to visit Luna?”

 

“Yeah, he mentioned it,” Gladio’s eyes light up when they’re brought their drinks and appetizers. There are spring rolls, and Noct’s made a point of ordering a giant boba tea. He still has issues with the texture of the tapioca bubbles, but it’s adequately junky enough that he’s managed to almost acquire a taste for it. So, apparently, vegetables are a no-go, but Prompto _can_ get Noct to actually enjoy new foods, if they’re unhealthy enough and his friend tries hard enough.

 

“You gonna take her out on a date?” Gladio digs into the food, and he lifts a brow but doesn’t comment as Noct sips down on his tea.

 

“We’re going out,” Noct leans back in his chair, and he pointedly avoids the spring rolls, because they’re made with translucent rice paper and he can see the green stuff inside of them. Nope, he’s not falling for that trick. “Don’t know if that makes it a date.”

 

“It’s a date if you want it to be a date,” Gladio shrugs. “Or if she thinks it’s a date.”

 

Noctis doesn’t know if Luna thinks it’s a date. He’s kinda-maybe-pretty-sure it’s a date. Suddenly, Noctis has absolutely no idea why he’s brought up Luna in the first place. Is it to prove to Gladio that he’s worthwhile? That if Prompto can get a date, Noct can too? Maybe it’s to prove it to himself. He’s really out of his element here, and Noct’s suddenly feeling a burst of anxiety, one that leaves him squirming in his seat, sipping at his tea and glancing down at the table.

 

“You know,” Gladio continues, and that calms Noct down a notch, as he focuses on his friend’s voice, “I’m glad you’re doing something with your dad. He tries, you know.”

 

This conversation again. Noctis shrugs, but at least it’s a change of topic. It dulls some of the uneasiness, though there’s a new heaviness in Noct’s gut as he ponders that over. He and Gladio don’t really talk about their dads. It’s sort of an unspoken agreement they’ve come to. Gladio’s dad works almost as hard as Noct’s own father, and the two men are business partners (even if Clarus Amicitia is technically an employee), and their lives have been entwined as long as Noct’s memories go back. They’re both workaholics, in short, and Noct… well, he wonders often if Gladio has the same hangups, the same inadequacies regarding his father.

 

“I guess,” Noct shrugs, “he’s always been a little too busy for me to get that impression.”

 

The food comes out, and it’s a good thing, because it’s a distraction from the conversation. Besides, Gladio has finished the spring rolls off. One of the benefits of little hole-in-the-wall noodle places by a college campus is that the food comes out fast, and they know how to turn a table, to cram more people into the small place. It’s a slow hour, so there’s no rush, but Noct is still eager for a reason to stop talking. Even if this particular conversation is absolutely killing his appetite.

 

Gladio digs into his bowl of noodles eagerly, while Noct picks at his blessedly vegetable free bowl with his chopsticks.

 

“You know,” Gladio says thoughtfully, through a mouthful of food that makes Noct roll his eyes, “I thought the same thing about my dad for a while.”

 

Noct’s always been of the opinion that even if there are a good deal of similarities between the Amicitia family, and the too-small Caelum family, they had it a little bit easy. Noct spent a good deal of his time under Clarus’s care. And sure, a lot of that time, Clarus was closed up in his home office, dealing with business issues, but he was _there_ , he wasn’t across the country, or shut up in his office in the fancy building down the street. Noct opened his mouth to protest, to say this, but… he thought better of it.

 

“You probably don’t remember,” Gladio continues, though he puts his chopsticks down for a moment, stops chomping down on the noodles, “but my mom left when Iris was still really small. You were just little too.”

 

“Summer before I started kindergarten,” Noct replies quietly, and he finds he can’t meet Gladio’s eyes. He glances down at his bowl of food, and he’s been picking at the noodles for a while now, slowly eating bits of chicken out of the bowl, “I remember some.”

 

Noctis sort of remembers Gladio and Iris’s mom. She worked a lot, too. He’s gleaned info here and there over the years, but apparently Gladio’s parents separated before Iris was even born. They made a brief attempt to reconcile after Iris was born, but that didn’t last long. It had ended badly. Noctis remembers when his dad had told him he wouldn’t be going over there for a while. That Gladio would be staying at their place, with the sitter, for a little while. Noctis remembers how angry and sullen Gladio had been, in the vague, distant way that all childhood memories are when you’re an adult trying to look back. Hazy, dream-like, and not entirely certain of their validity.

 

“Yeah,” Gladio nods, and his voice is a little strained, “few years before your… y’know.”

 

The accident. Yeah. Noctis knows. He manages a quick nod, and he keeps picking at his food, working to shred apart a noodle with fierce determination.

 

“For a long time, I blamed dad,” Gladio keeps going, “… then I blamed your dad. And you, I guess, by extension. I thought, maybe if dad had worked harder, if he’d been less involved with _your_ family… mom would’ve stayed.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Noct doesn’t mean to say anything, but the words slip out. He remembers, of course, now that they’re talking about it, Gladio’s anger. Gladio telling Noct he didn’t want to play with him anymore, Gladio pushing him aside. A couple of fights where Noct ended up on the floor with his cheek pressed into the living room carpet. Typical young boy fighting, really, but… Noctis was a small kid, and Gladio’s always taken after his dad, always been bigger than him.

 

“I was an asshole to you,” Gladio shrugs, “don’t get me wrong. I’m still an asshole. Tough love and all, kid,” that, at least, makes Noctis smile, and he looks up from his noodles, and there’s kindness in Gladio’s eyes as they exchange a glance. “Didn’t mean it was okay though.”

 

Noctis shrugs, and he ducks his head down again, breaking the eye contact, because there’s a faint flush spreading over his cheeks, “we were just kids. Didn’t know better.”

 

“I should’ve known better,” Gladio pauses, and it’s for a long, rare moment. Gladio’s the type of guy to say whatever comes to mind, and it’s usually a whole lot of harsh truths and things Noct isn’t entirely sure he wants to hear. It’s rare that Gladio actually seems to be picking his words carefully, and it catches Noct’s attention.

 

“You know who should’ve known better? My mother should’ve. See, I got older, and Iris got older, and we don’t hear from her. She’s alive, sometimes we get cards, but…” Gladio shrugs. “Guess what I’m trying to say is. You’re _family,_ Noct, and I care ‘bout you. And your dad. And you should stop blaming him for shit.”

 

“I don’t blame him,” Noctis digs back into his food, even though his appetite is waning, the conversation just a bit too much on the side of heavy, and his tastes are already finicky enough. But it’s a distraction, enough to keep him from getting lost in it. Because… well, maybe there’s some truth there. Maybe Noct’s too hard on his dad. He _knows_ his father loves him. But maybe there’s some blame there, something Noct’s not even really sure he knows how to consider, let alone process and move on from.

 

“Sure ya don’t,” Gladio’s voice is dismissive, but Noct isn’t sure that Gladio really believes him, “Still. It means a lot to him that you’re going on this trip. Don’t think he just invited you for business or whatever bullshit reason he gave you.”

 

Noct’s cheeks flush again and he pushes his half-eaten bowl aside. He doesn’t bother to get it boxed for Prompto though, because he’s thoroughly ruined it, picked through and eaten the meat bits, and pulled at the noodles until they’re mush. “You know, for someone who had a whole bunch of advice about working out, you haven’t talked about that at _all._ ”

 

That was apparently the right thing to say to change the subject, because Gladio’s demeanor shifts instantly, and suddenly he’s talking Noct’s ear off about reputable places, offering up personal training lessons and to ‘make some calls’ to people he knows. Noct’s already overwhelmed about the idea of it all, and he quietly decides to maybe just drop the whole idea entirely. Maybe.

 

\---

 

In the end, Noctis decides that maybe he’ll just take up running. Partially because Gladio’s overwhelmed him, and partially because most of the gyms he’s recommended are small and cliquish, and that requires Noctis to socialize, to talk to people. And, maybe worst of all, he has to actually commit and set something up with someone. He doesn’t wanna make a _phone call_ for an idea that’s essentially a whim. And besides, running. It’s free, it’s easy enough, and it’ll keep his mind off things. He can listen to some music or some podcasts, and they live near a nice enough running trail, one that spans over several parks, along the riverbed, all the way down to the water front. And besides, Prompto does it after all, right?

 

Maybe it’ll give them common ground or something. Another thing to talk about.

 

Never mind that Prompto is exactly what Noct wants to get his mind off.

 

It’s early evening, a couple of days after his little noodle date with Gladio. The sun is going down, and it’s nice out. So Noct throws on a pair of joggers, a loose t-shirt, and a pair of running shoes that’s lurking in the back of his closet. Prompto’s at work, but Noct knows his best friend has one of those running armbands that he can put his phone in, so he texts him and asks if he can borrow it. When Prompto responds with a ‘yea its on my desk, go 4 it!!!’ – following several other texts expressing strong surprised emotion about Noct actually _running –_ Noctis shuffles into his room to fetch it.

 

Noctis nudges against Prompto’s computer monitor by accident when he reaches across to grab the running gear. It bumps his computer out of the screensaver, and Noct’s heart leaps in his throat when he realizes the background image is a picture that Prompto took of the two of them. It was a dumb shot, taken a few weeks ago. They’d been at some bookstore because Noct had needed a new textbook that had been assigned to the curriculum last minute as ‘recommended reading.’ The sun had been setting as they’d walked back, and Prompto had taken a selfie that had turned out surprisingly well, with the two of them all bathed in orange light. Prompto had shown him the shot, of course, but… Noct doesn’t know when he’d set it as his computer background. Or _why._

 

Noct’s three mile run is horrible, and it is probably the worst twenty three minutes of his entire life. And he absolutely can’t get his mind off Prompto, despite the playlist of upbeat music that he opted for, despite the fact that his legs ache, his knee hurts, his lungs burn. Why, again, did people do this for _fun?_

The shower he takes after is nice, though he spends part of it half-collapsed on the shower floor, head tipped back and letting the spray hit him fully in the fact. Noctis is strong, and he’s not out of shape, but this cardio thing is not fun. He’ll have to reassess this decision.

 

And Noct decides to reward himself. He definitely ends up in the living room, hair still damp and dripping, a towel wrapped around his neck. He’s wearing a pair of loose pants that hang low on his hips, and he hasn’t bothered with a shirt yet. In general, Noctis has issues with soft food, but he makes an exception for peanut butter, which he’s currently eating with a spoon right out of the jar, shamelessly. It’s definitely a trick Ignis used to use to get his picky younger self to actually consume some calories, and it’s maybe stuck over the years. Either way, he’s flipping through Netflix lazily, as he licks the spoon clean.

 

The back door opens and Noct perks up a little, because that means Prompto is home. It’s not too late, so they might have a bit of time to watch a movie or play a game together before bed.

 

“Noct?” Prompto calls out, and his voice sounds… well, strange. It’s a combination of excitement and hesitation. Nervous excitement, maybe? It’s enough to make Noctis sit up a little straighter, for his stomach to do a strange flip.

 

“In the living room,” Noct calls back, but he doesn’t get up off the couch. His legs hurt from that horrendous run, after all. Bad life choice.

 

Prompto peeks around the door frame, his head poking into the room. “I did a thing.”

 

“A thing?” Noct keeps his voice casual, his eyes flickering from the television to his best friend’s face, then back again. He has no idea what Prompto’s talking about, but when Prompto is vague like this, it isn’t usually a good thing.

 

“A thing,” Prompto repeats. “Gotta promise you’ll be okay with it.”

 

Noctis snorts and he rolls his eyes. He’s doing an expert job of masking his feelings, because he’s really goddamn confused. There are a _lot_ of things Prompto could be talking about right now, and Noct doesn’t particularly like cryptic mind games. But Prompto doesn’t look upset. On the contrary, he’s practically bouncing, and his best friend is trying to mask a huge grin. He’s failing spectacularly at it, too, because Prompto’s never been good at masking his emotions.

 

“Can’t promise if I don’t know what I’m promising,” Noct shoots back, but he pats the couch next to him. “You didn’t knock up that girl you’ve been dating, right?”

 

Prompto flushes brightly and makes a squeaking noise. _“No,_ Noct!” But he shifts past the door frame, into full view, and Noct realizes very quickly exactly what this _thing_ is, and why Prompto’s acting so weird. Because his best friend definitely has a _cat_ in his arms.

 

“I found him on the way home from work,” Prompto offers up quickly, “and it looks like it’s gonna rain overnight, and I couldn’t leave him all alone, and _can we keep him?”_

“That’s a cat,” Noctis replies, his attention definitely shifting from the television. His dad definitely paid to furnish the apartment, and Ignis selected out some really nice furniture for them. Not top of the line stuff, since they’re shitty college kids, but… not thrift-store quality stuff either. Noct has no idea if their lease allows pets. He’s also been mildly allergic to dust and cat fur. And they live busy lives, none of them have a lot of time for a pet, oh and that whole lease thing, they probably shouldn’t get evicted.

 

“Don’t see why not,” Noctis shrugs, and he reaches out with a hand to pet the cat on top of the head as Prompto sits down on the couch next to him. The cat hisses and swats with a clawed paw.

 

“Hey, that’s _not_ nice, kitty!” Prompto laughs though, and he shoots Noct a wide smile that makes Noctis’s heart skip a fucking beat. “He doesn’t like you, Noct. Don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you.”

 

“That cat’s a jerk,” Noctis grumbles, but he tips his head and regards the little creature with wide, owlish eyes. It’s a grey cat, green-eyed, and it looks rough for wear. One of its ears is torn, and it’s thin and dirty looking. The tip of its tail, curled around Prompto’s arm, is crooked. It’s not a very cute cat. But Prompto seems set on it, and for some reason, Noct can’t tell his best friend no. Besides, he _likes_ animals. A lot.

 

“Should probably put up an ad online in case someone’s lost him,” Noct says, even though it’s obvious this damn cat is a little badass and doesn’t have a home. And it’s obvious, by the way it settles down in Prompto’s arms and purrs happily, that it’s already picked its owner. Well, they have a cat now. It’s obvious that Prompto definitely won’t be putting any ads online, even as his best friend promises in return that he will. And despite that, Noct’s already making a list in his head of stuff they’ll need. A litter box, food, dishes, a collar with a stupid little bell that will drive them all insane…

 

“So, what you wanna name him?” Noct asks after a moment.

 

“Good question,” Prompto’s leaning close, Noct realizes. He’s paused the television and the room is quiet, except for the low, steady purr of the cat as it curls up in Prompto’s lap. It’s nice, comforting even. “Let’s do a combination of our names. _Promptis,_ that’s a good cat name, right?”

 

“That’s a fucking awful name, Prom,” Noct snorts, and shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Nocto then?”

 

“Even worse, dude, no,” and Noct aims a playful swat at Prompto’s shoulder, but it invokes the cat’s wrath, and it hisses again, some of the fur standing up on its back.

 

“I don’t hear _you_ coming up with anything better,” Prompto shoots back. But they’re both smiling, and Noct’s laughing a little. The laughter dies on his lips when Prompto leans in, his head coming to rest gently on Noct’s shoulder. It’s a tentative little gesture – they’ve been careful lately, and Noct’s been trying, wholeheartedly, to keep things from being _weird._ This… doesn’t feel weird though. It eases away some of the tension, and Noct carefully tips his head to the side, until his head’s resting on top of Prompto’s.

 

They stay like that for a few minutes, before the cat gets bored. It stands up in Prompto’s lap, arches its back as it twitches and stretches, then lazily crawls across Noct’s lap, to where he’s placed the opened jar of peanut butter aside onto the coffee table.

  
“Hey, that’s _mine,_ ” Noct groans and prods at the cat’s side with a foot as it dips its face into the jar. The cat hisses again and swats at his bare foot, and the claws make contact. It’s enough for Noct to give up and draw his foot away with a pained, mildly irritated sound. “Little asshole likes peanut butter. Let’s call him peanut.”

 

“Peanut,” Prompto replies thoughtfully, “well, I was gonna say kupo. Y’know, after the little dudes in that game I like. They’re fluffy and cute.”

 

“That cat,” Noct retorts, “is not fluffy or cute. It’s a monster.” Secretly, Noctis is already growing attached to the damn thing. He may have a very soft spot for animals. He’d prefer a dog, but… well, a cat is a good companion, too. Especially for two busy college kids. And the cat seems to have picked this place as well, because it perches on the edge of the table after it gets its fill of the peanut butter. Noct idly watches it clean its face and whiskers with its paws, before it leaps to the floor and slinks off to explore its new luxurious lodgings.

 

“Peanut Kupo Argentum-Caelum, the first of his fluffiness,” Prompto says finally, after the cat disappears, and he says it with such a straight face, with such conviction, that Noct almost bursts out laughing. It’s a fucking horrible name. Naturally, it’s perfect.

 

“Why does _your_ name get listed first?” Noct teases, but it’s settled. And maybe an arm is creeping around Prompto’s waist as they curl up together on the couch. Maybe Noctis feels better than he has in ages, since they stopped doing whatever it is they were doing.

 

“Cuz you said no to ‘Promptis’, that was the best name _ever,_ ” Prompto feigns a whine, but he’s smiling. They both are. It’s hard not to smile right now. Noct’s pretty sure that when Ignis realizes they’re harbouring an evil demon in the form of a fluffy eight pound cat, he’ll be very unimpressed with them. That doesn’t matter though. Things are getting weird again, but it feels less weird than the strange forced emotions of the past few days. Noct should maybe ask what this is, but that’s inviting awkward conversation again.

 

He pretends not to notice when Prompto’s lips brush over his shoulder. And Prompto pretends not to notice when Noct’s hand skims over his hip, gives a gentle squeeze over the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t ask how Prompto’s dates have been going, and Prompto doesn’t bring up Luna, and they have a really nice, almost-normal night. At some point, the cat curls up on the couch nearby, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i sucked at updating this week. i'm finally almost done persona 5 and then maybe i can have my heart back lolol.
> 
> i run a half marathon in the morning (ANOTHER ONE) wish me luck and hope i don't die!! 
> 
> this chapter is officially dedicated to everyone who adopted the obligatory impulse cat in college. i know i sure as hell did. he lives in canada w/ my sister now and his name is illidan. i miss you illidan.


	15. Combustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Prompto’s hand though, that does it. Prompto gently reaches a hand back, palm splaying against the small of Noct’s back, and he moves to guide Noctis out of the kitchen, presumably to get him to bed. It’s the breaking point, though. It’s what absolutely does Noct in.

“Pets aren’t in your lease,” Ignis repeats for the fifth time in about as many minutes. His voice is firm, not necessarily unkind, but full of that usual hard logic Ignis possesses.

 

Of course, Noctis knew that they couldn’t keep it a secret from Ignis. Even if they’d tried, Noct’s older friend has a key to their apartment, and he tends to drop in to deliver groceries, to finish up laundry, to pick up after them. And really, they haven’t even _tried_ to keep it secret. There’s cat fur all over the place. They’ve got a food bowl set up in the kitchen for Peanut, and there’s little bits of stray kitty kibble all over the floor. Prompto’s been surprisingly good at keeping the cat box clean, but it still smells like dusty, fresh litter in the laundry room where they’ve stashed it in a corner.

 

And, of course, there’s the fact that the moment Ignis enters the apartment for the first time, the cat makes a beeline for him, weaving in between his legs and rubbing his face into the advisor’s shins.

 

“I see you have a cat,” is the first thing Ignis says, and there’s only a moment of mild surprise when he recovers. Followed, immediately, by “you can’t keep a cat. This apartment doesn’t allow them.”

 

“Landlord doesn’t have to know,” is Noct’s immediate response. He’s giving Ignis a _look,_ a lazy glare that’s just screaming ‘try and stop me.’

 

Prompto’s at his side, and his response is more along the lines of “c’mon Iggy, there’s gotta be _something_ you can do. Look, he’s rubbing his face into you, he _likes_ you.”

 

“You are aware that he’s doing that to mark his territory, correct?” Ignis replies, trying to nudge the cat away with a foot. That, of course, makes Peanut far more determined to irritate Ignis. Cats can sense when someone doesn’t particularly appreciate them, after all.

 

In the end, Ignis contacts the landlord and ends up negotiating that the cat can stay. It requires him putting down a pet deposit (“out of my own personal funds, thank you very much”) and then there’s a good long lecture for Noctis and Prompto about taking care of the creature, ensuring it doesn’t wreck any of the new furniture, making sure they take it to the vet, and so on and so on. Ignis tells Noctis quite seriously that he’s only agreeing to this because it’s probably good for him to have a pet, that it will help him develop a sense of responsibility and provide some companionship. Noct knows better, and he knows it’s because Ignis will do anything for him.

 

So they get to keep the damn cat.

 

\---

 

It ends up being a pretty good couple of weeks for Noctis. October’s always one of the nicer months of the year. The summer heat doesn’t agree with Noct, making old childhood aches and pains flare up. Winter isn’t much better, with the cold getting down into his bones. Noct’s prone to catching sickness during the winter, too. His immune system is shit. But those few precious months in between? It’s a good time.

 

Now that they’ve got the cat, too, something has shifted a little bit. Prompto’s been home a lot more than he was those first few, busy weeks. Of course, they’re still both busy. Midterms are coming up, and they spend a hell of a lot of time together studying. When Prompto’s at work, Noct haunts the library and bothers Aranea, and honestly, he thinks she’s starting to even _enjoy_ his company, beyond having someone to poke fun at. He hates to admit it, but he can see why Ignis likes her so much. She’s _smart,_ scary, but smart, maybe the smartest person he’s ever met, apart from Ignis. And she doesn’t bullshit, gives Noct absolutely no nonsense, and when he slacks off and doesn’t get his shit done, she doesn’t cater to his whims or let him make up excuses. She’s kinda like the exact opposite of Ignis, in that regard.

 

But the girl Prompto’s been going out with, whoever she is – Noct still hasn’t met her, and Prompto hasn’t offered to introduce, and he’s _very_ content to keep it that way – slowly stops asking Prompto out. Or Prompto’s stopped asking her out. Noct’s not really sure which, but his best friend has been home more often. With the lull in holidays, Prompto’s work schedule has calmed down some, too. Autumn is apparently a wedding season, and even though Noct’s pretty sure Prompto’s a good photographer, his best friend laughs and flushes and tells him that he’s not good enough to do weddings ‘yet.’ They have midterms coming up in a couple of classes, so there’s a lot more time spent at home, on the couch, Peanut curled up in Prompto’s lap, their textbooks and notes and laptops with presentation slides open.

 

That’s how they find themselves with a rare weekend off, mid-October. Well, Noct has most weekends off, because he’s a lazy asshole that way, but it’s been ages since Prompto’s actually been around for a full Saturday. Full in Noct’s eyes, at least, because anything that happens before noon doesn’t exist anyway, so maybe Prompto had a morning shift or something. But his best friend’s around when Noct drags himself out of bed in the early hours of the afternoon. He settles down on the couch with a bowl of cereal, next to his best friend. Prompto should be studying, so naturally he’s playing video games instead.

 

“Morning,” Noct mumbles as he curls up with his bowl of cookie crisp in his lap. His hair is still all tousled from sleep, and he’s wearing an old t-shirt that’s faded and has a tear at the bottom. It’s an especially comfortable shirt, and Noct doesn’t have any real intention on doing much of anything today. Prompto’s playing some anime-style game, and he looks _really_ into it, which allows Noct a moment to stare at his best friend, before he realizes he’s staring and quickly averts his eyes back down to the bowl of cereal.

 

Which is probably for the better, because the damn cat has already trained itself to respond to the tinkling sound of cereal being poured into a bowl, and he’s perched on the edge of the coffee table, staring expectantly.

 

“Nuh-uh, this is _my_ breakfast,” Noctis grumps, but of course he still leans forward, and offers the bowl to the cat. Peanut makes a soft ‘meow’ and laps at the milk.

 

“Shouldn’t feed him, y’know,” Prompto lectures, but his voice is monotonous, his eyes still locked on the television screen.

 

“I gotta bribe him, otherwise he claws me the second I go near him,” Noct rolls his eyes. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, of course, but the cat has _definitely_ decided that he is Prompto’s cat (or rather, Prompto is his human) and has no qualms in reminding Noctis of that with frantic paw-swipes and claw-filled displays of dominance. This cat, in short, is an asshole.

 

“Whatever, when he gets sick, you’re taking him to the vet,” Prompto’s head is tipped to the side, and his tongue is sticking out a little bit. He’s really cute when he’s concentrating.

 

“He’s _your_ cat,” Noctis points out, “and we promised Iggy like two weeks ago we’d take him.”

 

“Then take him,” Prompto’s mostly teasing, Noct thinks, but it’s hard to be sure, when Prompto’s mostly distracted by that game, and he’s apparently in a battle of some sorts, because that look of concentration has only grown more intent.

 

“He’s _your_ cat,” Noctis points out. Again. The cat seems to agree with that statement, silently, because Peanut lifts his head away from the bowl, and hops onto the couch, where he settles in Prompto’s lap and begins to clean milk droplets off his whiskers.

 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t do it. You’re home more,” Prompto shifts to balance the controller with one hand, the other hand scratching the base of the cat’s tail. Noct can’t help but feel a little stir of jealousy, which he knows is absolutely fucking ridiculous, since it’s a _cat._

“Call and make the appointment,” Noctis concedes finally, with a groan and a very pointed glare in Prompto’s direction. “I’ll go if you call. I’m not calling. I hate phone calls. And don’t forget I have to go away with my dad soon.”

 

“Right,” it’s probably Noct’s imagination, but he thinks Prompto’s movements falter for a moment, that he grabs the controller a little more tightly, that his jaw seems to shift and set. “Tenebrae. You must leave soon, huh?”

 

“Next weekend,” Noctis still isn’t sure about how he feels about this trip. The fact that both Ignis and Gladio think it’ll be good for him, that he should work on his relationship with his dad, that’s… well, it’s both encouraging and horribly uncomfortable. It’s setting up all these expectations about what should happen, and Noct’s pretty sure it’s going to be an awkward time.

 

And there’s Luna, of course, too. Noct’s excited to see her, but he can’t quite figure out _how_ he’s excited to see her. He’s pretty sure he should be figuring out some sort of fancy date for her, some way to confess his long-standing feelings about her, but… well. Noct’s a little bit terrified, and he’s even more terrified that all those so-called romantic feelings over the years are little more than idealization of his best childhood female friend.

 

Naturally, since he’s confused about the whole ordeal, he just hasn’t talked about it. He’s barely spoken of the trip to Prompto, and Noct isn’t about to mess up now.

 

“What happened to the other game you were playing?” Noct changes the subject before Prompto can inquire about the trip anymore. Video games is always a safe subject. “The one with the cute girl?”

 

The attempt at diversion is successful. Prompto’s eyes light up a little – as they always do when there’s talk of a bad RPG – and he lets the battle screen of his game (turn-based) idle for a moment. “Dude, it was a really good game, but half the story’s missing, so now I’m just waiting for the DLC to come out.”

 

“Half the story’s missing so they’re making the rest of it DLC and charging you _more_ money?” Noct rolls his eyes, “sucks. The girl was cute though.”

 

“I’m more partial to the main character,” Prompto laughs though, and he grabs one of the throw pillows Ignis bought them off the edge of the couch, aims a swat at Noct’s head, “and shut up, you can’t complain about a five dollar DLC when your dad is _loaded_ and paying our rent.”

 

“Sure I can,” Noct does his best to sound insulted, “I’m a first year business major. I know _everything_ there is to know about that stuff.” He’s joking, of course, he’s not one of _those_ self-righteous freshmen with an overinflated ego and exaggerated sense of self. Maybe, to the contrary, he could use a confidence boost. Either way, the slow-creeping tension that seems to follow talk of Tenebrae has been pushed back, and Noct finishes off his cereal and settles in next to Prompto. The cat seems annoyed by his close proximity, but eventually allows it when Noct rubs behind his ears, though the tip of his tail thumps with mild annoyance against Noct’s thigh.

 

\---

 

The two manage to get absolutely nothing done that afternoon. Noctis has lofty plans about an evening of studying, but Prompto suggests that they go out for dinner (“since you’re going away soon, and we don’t have Saturdays to ourselves much”) and Noct finds himself readily agreeing. So, even though Noct’s looking forward to a day inside, he gets dressed. He even takes a shower first.

 

“Dude, is that makeup?” Noct comments as they’re getting ready to leave the apartment. The light in the kitchen is bright, and Prompto’s freckles, the ones Noct is particularly fond of, are faded away to smooth skin. Prompto blushes furiously, and there’s a moment of awkwardness, one that Noct hasn’t even _intended_ to cause.

 

“You know I wear makeup sometimes,” Prompto says, after a pause, Upon closer examination, Noct realizes his best friend’s got eyeliner on, too. And he’s styled his hair. It’s a good look for him, but… well, Noct prefers the freckles. There’s a flashback to that night they shared together, curled up in Prompto’s tiny bed, and Noct distinctly remembers counting those freckles, one by one. It brings a stupid smile to his face unbidden, before he realizes just what he’s _thinking_ about, and he jumps and flushes and looks away.

 

“Don’t normally notice you wearing it,” Noct shrugs, and tries to make the words casual and dismissive, though he’s very aware he’s just admitted to looking at his best friend _very_ closely. Whatever. Noctis throws on a coat and a pair of gloves, because it’s getting dark early now and the temperature dips sharply once the sun is down.

 

Prompto leans against the counter and waits for him, and when Noct opens the door, he ambles forward, their shoulders brushing as they leave. “It’s my secret plan to get you to treat me to dinner,” he tells Noct with a laugh.

 

“It’s a date then,” the realization hits Noctis full-on as they’re walking down the steps and he, very smoothly, misses a step in his inward panic, and nearly does a faceplant down the stairs. Prompto grabs his arm though, and keeps him upright, and it’s _fire_ searing through at the simple touch, even through several layers of clothing. Oh. Fuck.

 

“Better stop talkin’ like that, Noct, or you’re gonna give a guy ideas,” Prompto’s voice is airy, light, but Noct’s pretty sure there’s a tension settling in again. Goddamnit, why can’t things be _simple?_

\----

The plan is to go to the cute little hipster restaurant a couple of blocks away. Like most of Noct and Prompto’s plans, though, this one is very last-minute and poorly planned out, and it turns out a reservation to the place on a Saturday night is pretty much a requirement. The wait is close to two hours, and they say fuck it.

 

Instead, they end up at a little hole-in-the-wall, restaurant by day, bar by night type of place that’s the next street over. It’s too early for the bar crowds to hit, so the place is mostly empty. Ignis is partial to the place, of all people, because they have a surprisingly good alcohol selection, but Noct’s never actually been here.

 

And he’s usually not the type to drink, either, not unless it’s the two of them getting wasted at home. The thrill of it has faded though, now that they’re on their own and they aren’t sneaking bottles of wine from his dad’s parties, so it’s turned into a rare occasion. The drink menu is cheap though, and Noctis remembers Ignis mentioning the place, so he orders a mule, snaps a photo of it to send to his advisor, and is pleasantly surprised. It’s half decent, the ginger beer is sweet and spicy, and there’s a _lot_ of vodka in it, but it tastes good.

 

Prompto’s opted for something fruitier, a pina colada or a mai tai or something – Noct didn’t pay attention to exactly what he ordered – and he seems happy with the choice. A few sips in, Noct’s especially aware that he probably should’ve waited for his food, because all he’s had to eat is that bowl of cereal, hours earlier.

 

So that’s how they find themselves wandering back to the apartment, afterwards. Prompto’s carrying the box of leftovers. They’d ended up splitting a couple of appetizers, a plate of wings and some nachos. There’s leftover nachos, and Noctis doesn’t even bother to hide his distaste that his best friend is planning on eating _soggy chips_ that are mostly covered in the chunks of salsa and olives and peppers that Noct scooped off the ones he was eating.

 

Noct’s definitely a little tipsy from his drink. It was _strong,_ and even though he picked at the food, the nachos had too many vegetables on them for him to fully enjoy them, and wings aren’t very filling. The alcohol thrumming through his veins is liquid courage though, and he’s got an arm looped around Prompto as they make the walk back.

 

And Noct’s mind is _racing._ It’s all over the place. The air is cool against his face, which is good, because he feels warm from the alcohol, from the fact that Prompto is close, and their shoulders are brushing together, and Noct’s hand has settled on his best friend’s hip like it belongs there. More importantly, Prompto hasn’t stopped him. They were talking at first, but by the time they reach their apartment, they’re both silent. It’s maybe an awkward, nervous silence, under regular circumstances. But right now, Noctis is okay with that.

 

They get inside, and Prompto throws the carton of leftover gross, soggy nachos in the fridge. Noct kicks his shoes off, and tosses his jacket onto the kitchen table.

 

“You wanna watch a movie or something?” Prompto asks, glancing over his shoulder.

 

Noct’s fingers are twitching, because they want to be on his best friend again. He’s realizing how much he enjoyed having an arm curled around him, how much it felt _right,_ like he belongs there, at Prompto’s side. It’s scary, and it’s thrilling, and Noct’s maybe regretting having that drink now. He’s definitely more affected than Prompto, which is surprising, because Noct’s tolerance is usually much higher. It’s the stress, maybe. Realistically, it’s probably just the lack of food and the fact that his drink was _way_ more potent. Details.

 

They’ve been doing a really good job at keeping things not weird. Okay, maybe they’ve been doing a _mediocre_ job, at best. They’re still cuddling on the couch a lot. Noct’s trying to ease himself away, but he’s pretty sure Prompto’s girlfriend-date-lady-friend is out of the picture. Is Luna out of the picture? Has Luna ever been _in_ the picture? Noctis doesn’t know. He does know that he wants to make his dad proud, and dating his male best friend isn’t the best way to do that.

 

Wait, dating? His mind has already jumped there? This is not how Noct’s night should be going, it’s…

 

“Noct? Earth to Noctis?”

 

Prompto’s voice is closer now, and Noct nearly fucking jumps out of his skin. He’s zoned out, one hand placed on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He’s been staring at the wall, his eyes glazed over. His best friend is _close,_ and their eyes meet, and it’s more of that strange fire rushing through him, because Prompto looks concerned. Some of his best friend’s makeup has smudged, and Noct can make out the faint smattering of freckles along his cheekbones.

 

“Did you have too much to drink, buddy? You need to go to bed?” Prompto’s face is only inches away from Noct’s. Noctis realizes his mouth has gone dry, his tongue feels heavy. His reactions to Prompto have been… confusing, to say the least, lately. There’s all those memories, of jerking off shamefully in bed to thoughts of his best friend, to the roll of jealousy when Prompto went out with his lady, to that happy, blissed-out feeling of falling asleep in Prompto’s bed after they had sex.

 

It's Prompto’s hand though, that does it. Prompto gently reaches a hand back, palm splaying against the small of Noct’s back, and he moves to guide Noctis out of the kitchen, presumably to get him to bed. It’s the breaking point, though. It’s what absolutely does Noct in. He’s tried _so_ fucking hard to keep it together, to keep Prompto at a safe, best friend appropriate distance, to work out these feelings by locking them away. He has to make his dad happy, it’s what Noct’s been striving to do his whole life.

 

Instead, with that simple touch, he shifts, he’s backing Prompto up against the kitchen wall, and Noct leans in and presses their lips together, firm and rough and goddamn _desperate._ There’s a moment where Prompto is deadly still against Noct, even as he’s got him pinned up against that wall, and it’s a moment of pure panic, where Noctis wonders if something’s changed. Then, Prompto’s hand drifts up Noct’s back, curls into his hair, and he kisses him back.

 

It’s an explosive kiss, one Noctis hasn’t even realized he needs so badly. It makes him go weak in the knees, as cliché as it is, and even though he’s started it, Prompto quickly takes control of it. There’s teeth tugging at Noct’s lower lips, a hot tongue pressing into his mouth, and Noct surges forward in response. He’s got one hand braced on the wall next to Prompto’s face, the other finds his best friend’s hip and kneads there, in the space of bare skin between his shirt and his low-hanging jeans.

 

“ _Noct,_ ” the way Prompto breathes out his name, when they part, is all fire and heat smoldering into Noct’s very fucking bones. He’s half-hard in his jeans already, damnit, and the way they’re pinned together, Prompto’s got to be aware of that, feeling it pressed up against his thigh.

 

Noctis doesn’t know what to say. What the fuck _can_ he say? He’s been ignoring these feelings for weeks, he’s been jerking Prompto in circles, and on some miniscule level, one that only surfaces when he’s got just enough alcohol in his system to lower some of his barriers, he’s aware of that. Instead, his lips find Prompto’s jaw, press heated kisses there, down his throat, and he can feel the bob of Prompto’s throat as his best friend sucks in a deep breath, swallows hard, and tips his head back.

 

“Noct, we, I—“ Prompto’s got both of his hands in Noct’s hair now, fingers tangled, “we shouldn’t, you’re drunk,” the words aren’t too convincing though, because his voice is hitching, his hands tugging a little urgently at the back of Noct’s head.

 

“I’m not drunk,” Noct’s a little tipsy, yes, and his words come out more as hot breath against Prompto’s neck than anything else, but he’s certain of that. He’s very aware of what he’s doing, and yeah, okay, the alcohol’s definitely making him feel like acting on these feelings are a good idea, when they probably aren’t, but the feelings are here, they’re real, and hell, they have been for a while, haven’t they?

 

“You’re kinda – nn – drunk,” Prompto’s argument is weakening though, because Noct’s got his tongue tracing the ridge of his clavicle, collar of his wide-necked shirt riding down low.

 

“No,” Noct lifts his head away. His cheeks are flushed, his heart is pounding out of his chest, and fuck, he’s hard and throbbing in his pants. But despite all this – Noctis feels _good._ And he knows Prompto’s trying not to take advantage here, and it’s a little feeling of warm appreciation. “It was one drink, Prom. I’m not drunk, I _know_ what I’m doing.”

 

Their eyes meet. Prompto’s eyeliner is smudged, too, and Noct shifts, lifts a thumb to swipe at the corner of his eye, gentle and affectionate, and just as Noct’s breaking point was that little touch to the small of his back, this is apparently Prompto’s breaking point, because his best friend takes in a heaving breath and closes the distance between them again, their lips catching in another rough kiss.

 

“Bed,” Prompto gets out in between kisses, the word muffled as Noct dives back in, and then they’re moving in a tangled heap of horny teenage boy, through the apartment, pausing to brace up against walls and doorframes, their lips barely breaking apart. There’s a moment outside the bathroom door where they pause, and Prompto’s shirt ends up pulled over his head and tossed onto the floor. Another moment where Prompto spins them, gets Noctis flush against the wall next to the main entrance to their apartment (the one they never use, because the back stairs are so much easier), and Noct’s shirt comes off too in a tangled heap that falls to the floor.

 

They end up in Noct’s room this time, on his properly sized bed. It’s Noct’s legs that hit the bed first, and he sits down heavily, scoots back on the bed, and Prompto follows him. They end up like this, legs half-hanging off the side, Noct braced up on his elbows and Prompto leaning over him, their lips still caught in a kiss. They’re both flushed, breathless, Noct’s lips puffy and kiss-swollen, and Prompto’s already got a thin sheen of sweat, more of his makeup mussed. It matches the tousled hair. Noct’s already left little red marks on his neck, ones that will probably fade into nice little bruises. It’s dark in Noct’s room, but he’s lazy and apparently left his bedside lamp on when they went out earlier, so there’s a soft glow that catches on Prompto’s features, casts attractive shadows in all the right places.

 

“Hey,” Prompto’s voice is low, his tone almost gentle, though it’s full of heat too, as he dips his head down, runs his tongue over Noct’s throat, down his chest, leaving a wet trail of saliva that starts out hot, and fades quickly to cold as the cool air in the apartment rushes over the damp line, “remember what I said last time?”

 

They haven’t really talked about last time. Noct’s still aware, very completely, that they shouldn’t be doing this. It’s just that it feels _really_ good. And there’s something thrilling about being like this, pressed down into the mattress, Prompto a comfortable weight over him, and his tongue really _has_ gotten good at this, at drawing these sensations out of Noct, little bursts of heat that have him straining against his pants.

 

“L-last time?” Noct manages, and he’s definitely gasping and working his hips up as Prompto shifts, presses a knee between Noct’s thighs, and there’s friction against his already aching arousal, and it’s _so_ fucking good.

 

“Mmm,” Prompto makes a quiet, satisfied noise, pleased about Noct’s reaction. Noct responds by shifting his weight, lifting a hand between them, and he’s happy to feel that Prompto’s hard too, that he’s just as strongly affected by this. Noct sighs, because Prompto’s teeth find a nipple, and Noct is _sensitive_ there, his limbs feel a bit heavy as he goes limp against the mattress, but Prompto keeps _talking,_ “remember, last time I said we’d switch.”

 

Oh. _Oh._

 

Noctis definitely doesn’t bother to hold back the quiet moan those words inspire. He doesn’t know if he can. He’s definitely settling his back down fully on the bed though, both hands lifting now to work over the bulge in Prompto’s pants, to work at his zipper, and he wastes no time in pushing his best friend’s low-rise jeans and underwear down his hips. He gets a hand curled around Prompto’s cock, and it’s wet with precum at the tip already, and yeah, Noct’s taking this _fast,_ but the idea of being on top this time? Of feeling what it’s _like?_ Yeah, he’s interested.

 

“Fuck, Prom, I want _that,”_ Noct’s voice is dark with desire, and Prompto’s seemingly unable to talk, barely able to breathe, because of the hand wrapped around him. They’ve done this enough that Noctis knows he likes those rough, fast strokes, and he wastes no time in getting to that. “I want _you._ ”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto finds his voice, and he’s pushing Noct’s hand away after a few of those satisfying jerks, “you gotta stop Noct, or we won’t get to any of the good stuff.”

 

The good stuff. Noct obediently slips his hand to Prompto’s hip instead, fingers working there, and he watches as Prompto squirms under the touch, before lifting away to wriggle out of his pants and underwear. Noct’s stomach does flips, too, because he’s still remembering that day Prompto was walking around shirtless, and he’d frantically touched himself and tried to fucking forget about it. But now he has Prompto in his bed, naked, lightly toned chest, strong thighs, those little faded silvery stretch marks and freckled skin, and he has it all to himself. Fuck, Prompto wants this, too, because his cock is red and angry already, hanging heavy and leaking.

 

And Prompto can feel Noct’s gaze on him, apparently, because their eyes meet, and Prompto stretches out a little, rises onto his knees and arches his back before he sits back, knees spread and straddling Noct’s legs.

 

“Not fair, you know, that I’m naked and you’re still wearing pants,” Prompto pouts, and it makes Noctis both flush and laugh at the same time.

 

“Fix that then,” Noct’s tone is a little lazy, challenging even, as he lifts his hips, and Prompto wastes absolutely no time in working them down, too. Noct’s erection springs free, settles hard against his belly, and he lets Prompto deal with the effort of getting his pants down his legs, kicking when the fabric is bunched and dangling on one foot.

 

They’re both naked now, and Prompto shifts up to straddle Noct’s thighs, leaning back down for another kiss, and it’s all heat and need again. Their cocks are pressed together, hot flesh gliding over equally aching arousal, and it makes Noctis moan into Prompto’s mouth, a hand lifting to settle on his best friend’s shoulder. His tongue’s in Prompto’s mouth, and this time, Noct’s taking control – though he thinks, maybe, it’s because Prompto’s letting him.

 

It’s when they part again, that the first little hints of panic take over. Noct has absolutely _no_ fucking idea what he’s doing, and it’s painfully obvious that he’s lost. His eyes widen a little, and for a moment he thinks maybe they should _stop_ this, but it’s so good, and he wants it so badly. And hell, this absolutely isn’t like Noctis. He’s so good at faking the confidence. Even last time, when it was _entirely_ new, when he let Prompto be the one to fuck _him,_ Noct had managed to play it off. Why the hell was everything so confusing now? Why did he still feel like a fumbling virgin, pathetic and awkward and confused?

 

“There’s lube in the drawer,” Noct says instead, and he keeps his voice steady. Maybe that’s betraying him there, too, because even though he’s been working his ass off to keep things normal, there was definitely a little ‘just in case’ purchase at the local drugstore, using the self-serve checkout where no nosy cashiers could speculate about what he was doing with a little tube of lubricant. It makes jerking off feel way better, at least, though Noct’s been trying not to do _that,_ either, since his fantasies seem to beeline directly in the way of cute, blonde hair, blue-eyed freckled best friends.

 

“Now who’s prepared?” Prompto sounds amused though. Noct decides that he wants to wipe that amusement right off Prompto’s face, and he finds his best friend’s cock again, curls his fingers around and gives a few good strokes.

  
Prompto cries out, but he’s still leaning over, fumbling in the drawer until he finds the little tube.

 

“Not that prepared,” Noct groans at the realization, but he’s still stroking Prompto’s cock, thumb swiping over the tip and gathering precum there, “I don’t have condoms.” It’s a minor inconvenience, yeah, but he’s pretty sure Prompto’s got some. It breaks some of the moment, makes Noct’s own erection pulse a little less urgently at the idea of breaking for a mad scramble to the other room, but. Whatever. All the reason to be more prepared next time (and fuck, he’s thinking about next time already.)

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Prompto’s eyes are dark, with lust, honed in on Noct, and he uncaps the lube, reaches for Noct’s hand, and tugs it away from his erection, “there’s nobody else. Except you.”

 

 _Fuck._ That’s fire in Noct’s veins, it’s a reaction that’s hardwired directly to his aching erection, apparently, because those words are making him even harder, even needier. There’s trust there, maybe a deeper implication, and hell, maybe Noct should insist that they be safe, but… well, Noctis isn’t exactly smart. He’s not aware enough to realize exactly what Prompto’s admitting here. Instead, he nods, and lets his best friend pour some of the cold, slippery lube over his fingers, and guide his hand back.

 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” Noct’s amazed he’s keeping it together, that his voice is steady, because Prompto’s guided his fingers to his entrance. Noctis hasn’t done this. He knows how it _feels,_ he still accurately remembers Prompto touching him like this, fucking him like this, but he hasn’t done it. And Noct’s fascinated by the feeling of it when he works a finger in. It’s _hot,_ and it’s _tight,_ and Prompto’s doing his best to relax, Noct can tell, but he’s still clenching that first finger Noct’s gotten in.

 

“You won’t,” Prompto shifts, spreads his legs further, and he leans forward, a hand splaying on Noct’s chest, giving him more room to work with, a better angle, “told you, I’ve messed around like this before.”

 

Noct hisses at that, because he remembers, and the mental image of Prompto spread open and fingering himself is still _really_ fucking nice. Noct’s trying his best to be careful, but he’s _impatient,_ he wants this, and he’s barely giving it a moment before working a second finger in. He feels Prompto clench around him, and hears a sharp intake of breath, but when Noct’s eyes snap up to his best friend’s face, Prompto offers a faint smile and a nod.

 

All that research, maybe, has paid off, too, because Noct’s fingers crook once he’s got two firmly inside. It takes a few thrusts, and the first few times, he can’t find what he thinks he’s looking for. But after a minute, he gets the angle right, his fingers pushing into Promto’s prostate, and the reaction is instant. Prompto’s breath goes all rough and uneven, and he’s keening out a low, satisfied sound, hips jerking.

 

“Fuck Noct, fuck.” If it hurts, Prompto isn’t giving Noctis any real indication, because he’s rocking his hips down, fucking himself on Noct’s fingers, and it’s _good,_ it’s the hottest thing Noct has ever seen. His cock is aching and drooling precum on his belly, and the only thing that Noct can think would possibly be better is having that tight heat gripping his erection instead of his fingers.

 

Prompto lifts his hips, suddenly, and tugs Noct’s hand away. There’s more lube, and Noct groans as he feels Prompto’s slicked hand working over his erection now. He’s aching, and the fucking touch alone is nearly enough to get him off, has Noct’s eyes clenched shut and his fists balling into the sheets, because it’s _embarrassing_ how close he is.

 

“I’m gonna,” Prompto says softly, and Noct forces his eyes open, as Prompto straddles his thighs again. It’s all Noctis can do to watch, as Prompto sits back, keeps a hand firm on the base of his cock as he starts to lower himself. It’s slow, _painfully_ slow, the first nudges of the head of Noct’s erection not going anywhere, slipping and sliding over the crease of Prompto’s ass instead of inside. Prompto’s chest is heaving, his cheeks are flushed, and he’s biting at his lip.

 

“Hey,” Noct lifts a hand, settles it on his best friend’s thigh, and now it’s his turn to smile, to offer up the words, “relax, remember? It’ll hurt otherwise.”

 

“Guess you’d know more than I would, huh?” Prompto laughs softly though, returns the smile, and this time, the head of Noct’s cock slips inside, and they’re both lost to the feeling of it, to the sound of the other’s soft moan at the contact.

 

It’s _good._ Fuck, it’s good. Noct can’t quite get over it, the sensation of Prompto, hot and tight, enveloping him. Prompto’s hips are working, a hand steadying himself on Noct’s belly as he lowers himself, and inch by inch, he sinks down. It’s all Noctis can do to keep from thrusting him, from jerking his hips forward. He holds back, but the hand on Prompto’s thigh is squeezing, his mouth is hanging open, and he’s panting. He’d close his eyes, but Prompto’s staring down at him, and his best friend looks pained, yeah, but he looks _satisfied,_ too, driven by some sex-fueled confidence, and Noct can’t take his eyes away.

 

“Need a minute,” Prompto manages, and there’s a pause, because Noct’s hips are trying to move of their own accord, but he doesn’t wanna hurt Prompto. He should have taken longer, maybe, but they’d both been so impatient, they both needed more of this, and now Noctis is realizing just how _good_ it must’ve felt for Prompto, that first time.

 

“You feel so fucking good,” Noct’s voice is cracking a little. Prompto’s bottomed out, and Noct’s balls are pressed up against his ass, he’s so deep. He _needs_ more of it, more of Prompto, more of anything, and it’s nothing short of pure relief when Prompto lifts up a little, thighs trembling, before sinking back down.

 

“Fuck, Noct, it’s _full,_ ” Prompto’s trembling, but he’s moving, the hand on Noct’s stomach tracing over his abs, encouraging, and that’s all the assurance Noct needs to rock his hips forward, to gasp out as his best friend grips his cock and takes him in. It’s a good thing Prompto’s taken the initiative here, that he’s on top, because Noct absolutely doesn’t have a proper rhythm, not for this. He tries to thrust up, to meet Prompto, as his best friend rises onto his knees and slides along his cock, but Noct can’t quite get the pacing right. He’s hard, too, aching and dripping, and after the first few thrusts, his balls are already drawn tight, a knot of pleasure burning bright in his belly.

 

“Prom,” Noct hisses. He’s trying to keep his eyes locked on Prompto, but it’s too much. His head tips back against the bed, eyes falling shut, and he’s trying desperately to hold on, but it’s _hard,_ it feels too good.

 

And it’s like Prompto knows, because his best friend lifts higher, rocks down, and tightens around him, “s’fine Noct, I wanna feel, it,” Prompto admits, with a heavy moan, and it’s a good thing that Noct’s eyes are shut, because if he could see his best friend, flushed and panting for Noctis to come in him, he would’ve been lost, right here, immediately.

 

Still, it’s not long. It’s a few more thrusts, Noct eager and rocking up, and he has the presence of mind to reach up, to curl his fingers around Prompto’s cock again. There’s a shift, as Prompto adjusts, angles his hips properly, and a gasp when the angle is all right. It’s tight heat gripping Noct’s cock, it’s the feeling of Prompto twitching in his fingers as he jerks him with those rough strokes, and then it’s _over._

 

Noct should maybe, probably, be embarrassed that he’s lasted maybe three minutes, but his mind whites out, because he’s coming hard, his cock twitching and sputtering as he fills Prompto up. Prompto’s still moving his hips, riding him, and that must be doing something for _him,_ too, because even though Noct’s hand is still stroking, he’s lost to the orgasm, and his grip is all wrong, his pace bad. But Noct keeps moving, his hips jerking up against Prompto as his best friend milks him, and as he’s lost in the haze of orgasm, in the pure euphoria rushing through his veins, he feels wet heat spurting over his fingers as Prompto comes too.

 

Noct collapses back against the bed, chest heaving, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and there’s a strange feeling of _loss,_ an uncomfortable cold wetness around his cock, as his best friend lifts away. It’s worth it, though, because Prompto settles down on top of him, still panting. Prompto’s hair is sticky and stuck to his forehead, but he presses his head into Noct’s chest, and instinctively, immediately, Noct lifts an arm to curl around him.

 

“… you okay?” Noct asks, quiet, after they stay like that for a moment. They’re a total mess. Prompto came all over his hand, all over their bellies, and Noct wipes his hand off on the sheets. There’s probably even _more_ of a mess down there, lube and semen mixed and trickling down Prompto’s thighs, since they didn’t use a condom, and now that the desperation is wearing off, Noctis feels oddly _guilty._ He really shouldn’t have done this. The situation is weighing heavily, and he’s going to see _Luna_ next week, and here he is, curled up in bed with his best friend.

 

He can’t leave though, or tell Prompto to go to his own bed though, because that’d be worse.

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Prompto’s saying though, and that tugs Noct out of his internal mologue, back to the real world. “Sore. But good.”

 

“Good,” Noct says instead, and he doesn’t voice any of his feelings. Really, he’s pretty sure that the thing he feels the most guilty about is that he _wants_ this. He likes the feeling of Prompto in his arms, comfortable and sated, and there’s something… thrilling, about the fact that they just did it like this.

 

“Better watch out, Noct,” Prompto says lazily, and he tips his head, presses a warm kiss to Noct’s chest, one that spreads a very _different_ kind of warmth all through him, “gonna start buying you drinks everywhere we go, if this is what I get out of it.”

 

Noct laughs softly, “you do realize how bad that sounds, right?”  


“Oh shut up. You know what I meant,” Prompto’s laughing too though.

 

The bed shifts, ever so slightly, and Noctis groans as wide eyes glow at him in the dim light. “Prom, tell your fucking cat to get out of the bed. We’re _naked._ ”

 

“Like he knows any better,” Prompto’s only laughing harder, as the cat settles down to stare at them. Noct’s pretty sure the asshole cat knows _exactly_ what’s going on.

 

Hell, it probably knows more about the current situation than Noctis does, at least. Not like that’s saying much. Because Noct keeps digging his hole deeper, and it’s at the point where he’s _realizing_ this, but here he is, naked with his best friend, covered in come and sweat, their legs tangled, Noct’s heart rapidfire pounding in his chest. And Noct sleeps better that night than he has in ages.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waohh this chapter took ages, i'm sorry. i wanted to split it into 2 but then that didn't happen.
> 
> i struggled w/ this smut a lot, because i wanted it to be awkward, but also, they're sorta figuring things out??? prom's not as clueless as noctis is, here, even if noct's the only one he's bangin' :3 not quite full on power bottom prompto, but... ok, i have a thing for power bottom prompto. they just need to get there first.
> 
> anyway, i survived my half marathon, i'm in full marathon prep now for my first ever full, but all my vacations are OVER until august, and i also beat persona 5 after like 100+ hours, so now we will be back to regular updating status, at least until i have a job. as always, ty for reading, on tumblr @destatree , come give me writing prompts to tide me over between updates so i stop writing highspecs crap nobody cares about in the meantime. <3


	16. Eye of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct would die if his father knew. 
> 
> And, well, that's probably the brunt of the issue, but Noctis isn't quite smart enough to figure that part out. He quickly pushes that sudden, inspirational idea aside.

Noctis wakes up in the morning earlier than expected. Prompto’s curled around him still – surprising, because Noct knows that Prompto goes on long runs on Sunday mornings normally. They’d fallen asleep a sticky mess of sweat and come, but it’d been a cold night, and Noct’s left his window cracked, so now they’re pressed close under the heavy blanket. The thought of getting up is… a troubling one. Partially because of the cold, but mostly because Noctis is horrible comfortable.

 

Even though his stomach does a flip at the fact that cuddling like this is way out of line. Noct snuggles up close anyway and presses his back against Prompto’s chest. His best friend sighs and shifts and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like Noct’s name, and an arm curls around Noct’s waist, holding him there.

 

Noct can’t help but smile a sleepy little smile, and he slips a hand down to cover Prompto’s, over his belly, and then he falls back asleep, well into the afternoon. This time, when he wakes up, some hours later, he’s alone in the bed, and that’s probably for the best.

 

Noct debates going back to sleep _again._ He hasn’t been sleeping well. But he’s already slept halfway through the day, and he can’t help but shake the feeling that something is off. He can hear the sounds of Prompto’s video game, too, echoing down the hallway, so Noct sits up, pushes the blankets aside, and stretches his arms over his head, his back cracking with a loud pop. It’s raining out, and Noct doesn’t need to look through the mostly closed curtains or listen for the telltale pattering sounds of rain to know. His back hurts, and there’s a tightness in his knee as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. The rain would explain why Prompto decided to skip his run, too, and that’s a better way to reason it than to think that he just wanted to stay curled up close in bed.

  
After throwing on a pair of loose fitting pants and a t-shirt (Noct doesn’t know why he bothers with that, since it’s not like Prompto didn’t just see much more last night), he pads out into the living room. Prompto’s curled up with a blanket and a steaming cup of tea, and the cat’s settled in his lap.

 

“Hey, sleepyface,” Prompto’s voice is affectionate and bright, and he tips his head to catch Noct’s eye as Noctis leans in the door frame and watches, silent, for a moment. Noct struggles to keep his expression neutral, because a sudden flush is trying to spread across his cheeks, and there’s a strange rush of _warmth_ in the pit of his stomach. The hell?

 

“Hey,” Noct is pretty sure he’s successful at keeping his expression neutral and unreadable. Good.

 

“Sorry, I would’ve made lunch, but you were out like a fuckin’ light,” Prompto laughs a little. Noct had grabbed his phone off the bedside table when he’d gotten up and slipped it in his pocket, and he fishes it out now to check the time. It’s two in the afternoon, and he’s managed to sleep through half the day. Oops.

 

“S’fine. You…” Noct chews at his bottom lip, a bit of a nervous gesture, because he doesn’t really know _how_ to say any of this, “… you feeling okay?” he settles with.

 

“Sore,” Prompto flushes just as much as he laughs, but he offers up a little shrug of his shoulders, “had to skip my run this morning. Weather’s shit anyway.”

 

 _Right._ That’s probably why Prompto didn’t get up early. Noctis remembers very well how he’d limped to the shower the following morning after that first time, and there’s a little wash of guilt.

 

"Sorry," Noctis manages to get out, and he flushes a bit at the memory of it all. He feels like a little bit of an asshole, if he's being honest with himself.

 

"I wanted you to," Prompto reminds him, and that's another wave of embarrassment, one that has Noctis shaking his head and purposely averting his eyes.

 

"I'm getting something to eat," Noct says quickly, pulling away from the doorframe he's been leaning, on shifting his weight accordingly. He's a mess still, and he probably needs a shower. But Noct's incredibly self-conscious of himself, of the situation. He's been limping a little, and suddenly it feels stupid that he's letting his knee bother him, when Prompto's the one who got hurt last night. If that's even the right word for it.

 

"I ran to the store earlier. Got you some more cereal," Prompto calls out as Noctis shuffles into the kitchen. And, bless his fucking heart, because Noct's forgotten that he's running low. He gets a bowl, fills it with cereal, and there's a quiet thud and a soft 'meow' because the cat, of course, has jumped out of his comfortable spot in Prompto's lap and made his way in to eye Noct's cereal. Or, rather, the milk he's dumping over top of it.

 

"This isn't yours," Noctis grumbles, and his voice is a bit irritable. The embarrassment, the awkwardness of the situation, has manifested into some mild form of annoyance. And even though things are, yeah, kinda weird, Noctis still carries his bowl of cereal back into the living room and settles down on the opposite end of the couch. The cat follows, and hops up onto the coffee table to glare at Noctis reproachfully. Noctis shoots back an equally harsh glare, and stares the cat down.

 

"Be nice to Peanut," Prompto says idly, because he's gone back to his game. Noctis wants to point out that the damn cat just has it out for him, but it's pointless to do so, he knows. Prompto will defend the furry little bastard to the death, and that's absolutely unfair. He'd maybe be jealous, but it's a goddamn cat, and Noct isn't going to lose his dignity to a cat.

 

So Noctis doesn't say anything. He shoves a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and half-heartedly watches Prompto's game for a few minutes. There's silence between them, and Noctis wonders if it's awkward. He doesn't want it to be awkward, but now that he's noticed how damn quiet it is, he can't think of anything else. He fidgets with his spoon, but the quiet metallic sound of spoon hitting the edge of the bowl is only making it worse. The cat starts grooming his paws, and the sound of rough cat tongue dragging over fur only adds to Noct's slow-growing frustration.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket though, and that's a welcome distraction. Noct leans forward and puts the bowl down on the coffee table (the cat wins this round, because Peanut immediately shoves his face in the bowl and laps at the milk) and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

 

"Dad wants to see me," Noctis groans, quickly reading over the text his father's sent. At least he hasn't asked Ignis to do his dirty work there.

 

"Guess for your trip?" Prompto tips his head to the side, and offers Noctis a small smile, one intended to be reassuring and gentle. The result, of course, is that Noct's stomach does another one of those strange flips. He's not really sure if that makes things better or worse. It's... a confusing place to be.

 

"I guess so," Noct agrees. His father hasn't specified why he wants to see him, but it's probably to make some last minute arrangements. Noct's got a copy of their itinerary in his email, flight times and meeting schedules, and he's still got half-assed plans to see Luna (which is another issue in itself), but his dad is organized, has always been highly organized. That's probably why he and Ignis got along so well. So it was probably about time to micromanage the whole thing to the finest detail.

 

"Bring me back some leftovers if he takes you somewhere fancy, will ya?" Prompto chirps up, eyes bright and a little longing. A part of Noctis - a surprising urge, one he can't quite explain - wants to invite Prompto along. Noctis wonders what his dad would say? Obviously, he's met Prompto several times, and is okay with paying his rent. But... Noct's very certain his father has no idea what's been going on, how their relationship has turned. What if Prompto said something in front of his dad? Worse, what if Noctis did something that betrayed just how fucking messy this situation was getting? He'd die if his father knew.

 

And, well, that's probably the brunt of the issue, but Noctis isn't quite smart enough to figure that part out. He quickly pushes that sudden, inspirational idea aside.

 

"Yeah, I'll text you the menu, if we go somewhere," Noct manages a little smile back at Prompto. His stomach does another one of those little flips, with the way Prompto's eyes shine, the way his best friend's expression brightens significantly. "I gotta take a shower," Noctis says quickly. And he opens his mouth, almost fucking says it, but the 'wanna join me?' dies on his tongue before he can get the words out.

 

Because that's just... he drank last night. It was only one drink, but it had been enough to get Noct’s guard down. And it's probably a mistake, what happened. Still, Noct's body is rebelling, his heart is betraying him, these feelings sending his mind racing, to settle somewhere between 'confused', 'elated' and 'terrified.' He has no idea what the hell he's going to do, once again.

 

\---

 

“She’s really pretty,” Noctis blushes and whispers to his dad, who is bent over his bed, fussing over the way the nurse has propped him up awkwardly against a flat hospital pillow.

 

His father laughs, a quiet, comforting sound to Noct’s ears. “You’re too young to be saying those things, Noct. What am I going to do with you, when you’re a teenager?”

 

Noctis, of course, is referring to his new hospital roommate, a pretty girl a few years his senior, with blonde hair and bright eyes. She’s off for a treatment, right now, but Noct still keeps his voice hushed, as if she can somehow hear him, the ethereal being that she is, in his young mind.

 

He doesn't need to be placed in a shared room, of course. He's been here a while now, and when he was unconscious, he'd had his own room. Now that he's awake though, stable, on the road to recovery, and starting to undergo grueling physical therapy sessions, his dad thinks it'll be better if he has someone else to talk to, so that he isn't lonely. Noct wants to point out that he isn't lonely, no more than he is at home; especially since his dad's around a lot, and when his dad isn't, Ignis is here, or Clarus. Even Gladio, his reluctant big-brother figure, has been spending time with him lately.

 

But his dad seems to think it's best. And, well, Noct can't really be too upset. Because his new roommate, a girl named Luna, she's really nice. She's maybe the nicest girl Noctis has ever met (not that he has many standards there, since all the kids at his school stare at him like he's got two heads.) And she's very pretty, with a kind face and equally kind eyes that don't betray any of the pain she's in. And she talks to Noctis like he's an actual person, not just some rich kid. He likes her, he decides instantly.

 

Said new roommate is here for some sort of brain tumor. Noct's only been in this room for a day now - they moved him yesterday - but he thinks that she's very brave. Noctis is lucky, because really, he remembers absolutely nothing, between rushing out after his dad in the street that one day, and waking up in a hospital bed. He's in a lot of pain, yeah. He's had surgery, too, since waking up, because his legs weren't moving right. That was scary - really scary - but his dad's been by his side,  and when his dad is busy, Ignis takes up guard, sitting by his side. Now he's in physio, and that hurts a lot, leaves Noctis a trembling, crying mess by the end of things, but it's hard to feel so sad, now that he's met Luna. She might die, his dad told him, before he'd moved into the room, so he should be kind to her, but... well, even not knowing that, Noct doesn't think it's possible to be anything but kind to her.

 

"I'm going to date her when I'm a teenager," Noctis tells his dad, with a sincere nod and a smile. "I'm going to work really hard and get better, dad. And she'll get better, too, and we'll live happily ever after, someday."

 

"I hope so, Noctis," his dad smiles though, and it's a happy smile, not one of the sad ones. Noct knows his dad well enough to distinguish the difference there. The road ahead is long, really long, but Noctis thinks that just maybe he can do it.

 

\---

 

“You’re barely eating, Noctis.”

 

Noct doesn’t know why his dad feels the need to point that out. It’s not like Noctis picking at his food and pushing it around his plate is anything unusual. True, his appetite is shot, but maybe that’s just because he ate that bowl of cereal earlier. In reality, it’s been some hours since he had his half-assed afternoon breakfast, but… well, his stomach’s doing those flip-flops again, and he’s just mentally checked out.

 

His dad came by to pick him up, but blissfully didn’t come up into the apartment. Noctis doesn’t know if Ignis mentioned the cat to him – he has a feeling that he didn’t – and he doesn’t quite feel like telling his dad about that new development. Not to mention, with such short notice, the apartment’s kind of a disaster. And, well, Noct’s sheets are a mess, and even though his window was cracked open all night, he’s pretty sure his room still reeks of sex. Either way, he thinks his dad will figure it all out, if he invites him in.

 

Now they’re at a nice restaurant. His dad’s dressed casual for once – maybe, now that he’s getting closer to retirement, he’s finally started to work less. About damn time, because Noctis is painfully aware that his dad somehow looks even older, even more exhausted, than usual. That’s always an unpleasant realization, and an increasingly frequent one, and it makes Noctis wonder what the hell the future holds. He’s working hard at school, but he’s barely a month in, and he’s already realizing just how little he knows about _everything._

 

“Got a lot on my mind,” Noctis shrugs, pushing more of his food around. It’s a chicken and rice curry dish. He’s already picked out little pieces of onion and stewed tomato and gathered them at the edge of his place. And Noct knows he should eat, but… hell. They’re leaving _soon,_ and he’s nervous about it. He doesn’t know why. They’re flying business class to Tenebrae, and then he’s accompanying his dad on a bunch of meetings for a couple of the days. The rest of the time, Noct will be free to do what he wants, to go sightseeing, and to see Luna. Most likely, he’ll end up sitting in the hotel ordering room service and watching television.

 

“Care to share?” his dad offers, and Noctis lowers his head, feeling his father’s eyes on him, sharp. Despite the weariness that his father seems to emanate, he’s _smart._ Noctis knows, objectively, that his dad is one of the smartest people he’s ever met. He successfully rebuilt the entire family legacy, saved a dying company, and he’s done well for them. And that conversation he had with Gladio a while back, about how hard his dad has tried… well, bits of that have apparently stuck with Noctis.

 

Still, he can’t bring himself to open up. Not about any of this. Noctis doesn’t want to disappoint his dad, and… well, he doesn’t need to burden him with his own problems.

 

“Just a lot going on with school,” Noctis shrugs. “And nervous to see Luna again.” That much is truthful. School is busy. The Luna thing is especially true, because… Noctis can’t sort out his feelings. He keeps trying, but then things like _last night_ happen, and it sets him back at the very beginning all over again. He wants, desperately, to talk to his dad about it. Noctis busies himself with stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken, spearing it with a particularly harsh sort of vengeance.

 

“We can cancel this trip if you want to, Noctis,” his father says, and his voice takes on a gentleness that takes Noct by surprise, makes him lift his eyes and look at his dad. “This isn’t an attempt to torture you. If you don’t want to go, I’m not about to force you.”

 

 _“No,”_ Noctis says abruptly, and he surprises himself with the intensity of his words, “I want to. I just… it’s a lot, dad, y’know?” Noctis doesn’t entirely know what _it_ is. Maybe it’s the fact that he and his dad have never quite seen eye-to-eye. There’s always been that distance between them, and Noctis doesn’t even know why. His dad really has tried, Gladio is right. Noct’s just… well, it just hasn’t been _enough._ Maybe he’s talking about his personal life, the fact that he’s trying to figure out just what he wants to do with the rest of his damn life. Maybe it’s Luna. Maybe it’s everything all at once. Noctis sighs, and he forces a bite of chicken into his mouth, even though his mouth is all gone dry and it feels like the texture of sawdust.

 

His father is giving him a long, _searching_ look, and Noctis feels very small. He squirms in his seat under that scrutinizing gaze, though he does his best to meet that gaze with one of his own. His family smiles faintly, and finally looks away, seemingly satisfied.

 

“Noctis, you’re stubborn, just like your mother,” his father says, and there’s a hint of something there. Pride, maybe? Noct’s stomach is doing flips yet again today, and this time, it’s suddenly for a distinctly different reason, one that makes his lips twitch upward into a smile, even as Noct ducks his head down. His dad doesn’t talk about his mom very often. Noctis knows that he resembles her – his father has said as much, and besides, Noctis has those family photos. He’s got her eyes, almond-shaped and steely blue, her delicate cheekbones and pointed chin. But… the comparison, it makes him happy, makes him think, for once, that just maybe he’s doing a thing or two right, after all.

 

“Thanks dad,” Noct says quietly, and maybe the words weren’t supposed to be a compliment, but he’s taking it that way.

 

“Your mother liked to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, too,” his father adds, “… you know you can talk to me, right? If you want to unload some of that burden.”

 

Noctis can’t talk to his father, not about this. He thinks, maybe, that he wants to, but there’s no way he can even consider that, not when he’s finally won a taste of his father’s affection here. “I know,” he says quickly, and he shoves another bite of food in his mouth. It tastes just a little bit better. Maybe he’ll eat some of the food, after all. “Think we can get something to go? For Prompto. He… doesn’t get to go to places like this, y’know?”

 

His father arches a brow at that, and Noctis pretends not to notice, even though he’s suddenly flushing brightly, dipping his eyes down again.

 

“Of course,” his father says, and if there’s a hint of sudden, dawning understanding there, Noct doesn’t pick up on it, doesn’t see the pieces falling into place. “Invite Prompto next time, if you’d like. I like that boy. He’s always been a good friend.”

 

Noctis doesn’t think his dad would feel that way if he knew everything that was going on. He can’t voice that, of course. A good _friend._ Just what the hell is Prompto, anyway? They’re best friends, yes, but… they’ve crossed so many lines, everything has blurred together. Noct’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be kissing his best friend. He shouldn’t be having sex with his best friend. It makes him shift awkwardly in his chair again.

 

“Thanks, dad,” Noctis says instead, and the words are a little dull, a little bit forced, even as he smiles. Noctis pushes his plate away, because there’s no way he’s eating anything else tonight, anyway.

 

\---

 

“Do you think I’ve failed him?”

 

Regis sighs, seated at the edge of an uncomfortable hospital chair. He hasn’t adjusted to the new room, yet. Noct’s been isolated for so long, and he just wants him to feel normal, to have a _friend_ for once in his small life, one that isn’t serious little Ignis, or reluctant Gladiolus. Noctis seems to get along well with the little girl he’s been placed with, but…

 

Regis can’t help but feel the weight of it on his shoulders. Noct has fallen asleep. The poor thing is worked half to death in physical therapy, and he’d come back crying, broken, in despair.

 

The other girl, Luna, isn’t in much better shape after what Regis presumes is some form of radiation therapy. Her situation is bleak, too. Maybe Regis should have vetoed the room placement, since the last thing he needs is for his son to befriend a dying girl. But he can’t shape every moment in Noct’s life, so… when the hospital matched them, Regis agreed to it. He’s hoping it will be good for his son.

 

“I think we all fail our children, sometimes,” Clarus says softly, a heavy hand pressed on Regis’s shoulder as they watch Noctis sleep. “We’re only human.”

 

“I never expected to raise him alone,” Regis sighs, “… they’re optimistic, but they’re unsure if he’ll ever recover full mobility again.”

 

Clarus shrugs, and the hand on Regis’s shoulder squeezes. “So, if he doesn’t, we adjust. But for now, we trust in him. Kids are tougher than we are, Reg. They… have to be. Because shitty adults like us, we let them down. And they keep going.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and Regis chuckles quietly, “your idea of a motivational speech is to remind me of all my shortcomings then?”

 

“Basically. Tough love, Reg,” Clarus sighs, and he lifts his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Regis doesn’t lift his eyes away from his son, whose expressions have finally smoothed out, now that sleep has taken him, now that the pain is far away and fading further. Like this, it’s easy to forget that they’ve been in a hospital for far too long, on the other side of the world. Regis has done all he can, here, but… hell, he blames himself for all of this in the first place.

 

“He’s so much like his mother,” Regis wonders aloud, and really, Noctis always has been a tiny little image of his mother. Same serious little face, same scowl, brow furrowing in just that same irritated way. It’s… difficult, sometimes, to watch his son grow up, the mirror image of his dead wife, and Regis knows that’s terrible shitty of him, far too selfish to ever properly voice. He thinks, though, that Clarus will know.

 

“Iris looks like her mother, already,” Clarus pulls up a chair, and he sinks down into it, next to Regis. “I chased my children's mother away, Reg, how do you think I feel sometimes? Parenting is just trying not to fuck your kids up _too_ much…”

 

“Wish someone had told me that beforehand,” Regis sighs, but he’s grateful for his closest friend’s presence, more than he can express. There have been so many hours alone in the hospital with Noctis, and it’s starting to weigh on him. So many conversations with doctors, discussions about spinal injuries and nerve damage and various painkillers, treatment schedules… Regis decides he’ll give _anything_ to simply have his son back, without the wheelchair, without the brutal therapy program. He wants to go _home._

“The sitter’s around all evening,” Clarus offers, “Gladio’s pissed at me anyway. You want to hear all about my failures at parenting, I swear, Reg, that child’s temper is going to drag me straight to an early grave…”

 

“He’ll come around,” Regis says lightly.

 

“So will Noctis,” Clarus offers right back, and Regis really hopes so, because he already knows the stubborn streak that burns bright in his son, and he knows just how much trouble that’s going to cause them all when Noctis gets older.

 

\---

 

Noctis goes up the main steps and in the front door of the apartment, for once, when he gets home. The rain hasn’t let up; it’s actually only gotten heavier, as the day goes on, and he’s soaked just from making the run from his dad’s car, up the front steps, and into the main foyer where the stairs are. He’s grumbling and shivering when he slides the key into the lock and steps inside.

 

“Hey,” Noct calls out as he enter the apartment. Prompto’s bedroom door is open, a stripe of light in the otherwise dark apartment, and his best friend is lying in bed, a textbook propped open in front of him.

 

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto tips his head to the side, grinning and waving. He hones in on the foam carton Noct is carrying, and the grin widens. “That for me?”

 

“Yeah,” Noct laughs a little, shaking the carton of food in Prompto’s direction, “brought you dinner.”

 

Prompto scoots up out of the bed, and Noctis swallows heavily, because he’s naked except for a pair of boxers. The apartment is _cold,_ no thanks to Noct’s wet’s clothing, and he has no idea how his best friend isn’t freezing to death. Noctis himself wouldn’t have left the nice warm bed. It doesn’t seem to bother Prompto though, because he’s at Noct’s side, taking the food from him.

 

“You’re the best, Noct,” Prompto leans close. Noct shivers, and he should lean away, but instead he closes the distance, their lips brushing together briefly, something that’s all heat and affection and sends a violent tremble up Noct’s spine. Fuck.

 

“Go eat dinner,” Noctis says quickly, and he pulls away, before that brush of lips can deeper into something else. He shivers again, and even though it’s not entirely the cold, Noct plays it off as such. “I’m soaked. Gonna get changed.”

 

“Right,” Prompto’s voice is still bright though, still cheerful, and their shoulders nudge together as he passes him in the hallway and heads down into the kitchen to plate up some food.

 

Noct should take a shower, but he isn’t in the mood. He dumps his wet clothes into a pile by the door, and changes into a pair of loose pants. He doesn’t bother with a shirt for once, instead diving into the bed. Part of him wants to go keep Prompto company, but… instead, he curls up under the sheets and waits for the blankets to warm him up.

 

“Hey Prom?” Noct mumbles a little half, half-asleep when he hears Prompto’s footsteps shuffle past his room. His friend must be done eating, and is retreating back to his room to finish up studying in bed.

 

There’s a pause, and Noctis peeks his head up from under the blankets. Prompto’s leaning in the doorframe, looking at him. “Food was awesome, Noct, thanks, you’re the _best.”_

Noct flushes a little, and the words send a rush of warmth all through him. “My dad paid for it,” he shrugs it off, tries not to let Prompto see just how much the words have shaken him. He’s really not the best. Someone who is the best, Noctis decides, wouldn’t be such a fucking mess about all this. He’s going to see Luna in a few days, and this isn’t at all what he should be doing. Noct’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to let his dad down. And he’s pretty sure his dad wants a _normal_ son. He’s been telling his dad for years that he likes Luna, and his dad seems to approve of that, after all…

 

“You wanna come study in here?” Noctis says instead.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto replies instantly.

 

Prompto brings his textbook in and settles down in the bed next to Noct. He props it open in front of them. The studying session lasts about five minutes, though, before Prompto’s arm curls around Noct’s waist. And Noctis should stop him, but instead he leans into the touch. When Noct’s eyes get heavy, he doesn’t bother to push sleep away, instead snuggles closer, until he’s practically spooned up next to Prompto’s side. And Noct is pretty sure he can feel a telltale hardness pressed up against the curve of his ass as Prompto shifts properly to get draped up against his back.

 

“Night, Prom,” Noctis mumbles, stifling a yawn, and instead of being disturbed by the closeness, by the fact that some cuddling’s got his best friend _hard_ against him, it’s another rush of warmth. And hell, maybe a spike of arousal, too, though he’s too tired to act on it. Noct is too tired to feel conflicted, too, when Prompto’s lips brush over the back of his neck, or when his best friend’s fingers skim just under the band of his pants to settle on his hip. All he feels is warm, safe, and way too disgustingly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter had less pain than intended. well, less promptis pain, because the regis+noct pain took over instead. and the reg+clar, because the world needed more dad antics. (regis totally suspects something now, because he is a good father and he knows his son, even if they have an awkward relationship.) 
> 
> next chapter: smut, then angst, in that order. :3 someone come save these idiots.
> 
> as always, on tumblr @destatree, if you like this shit, follow me and send me prompts or whatever, i'm bored.


	17. Perturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You okay, Noct?” Prompto tips his head inquisitively, as they make their way onto campus. Noct’s suddenly very aware that there are people around them, and they’re holding hands like it’s nothing. He tries to be casual about it as he tugs his hand away, lets it hang heavy at his side. He’s probably blushing a little, and Noct tries to play it off as the cold air getting to him. 
> 
> “I’m fine, Prom,” Noct’s not sure if he is. His fingers twitch. He feels suddenly lonely.
> 
> What is he doing? Noct doesn’t know. Fuck, he doesn’t know.

At some point after his accident, Noct had started having horrible nightmares.

 

He’d be walking down endless corridors, utterly and completely alone. He’d hear voices calling out for him – his dad, his mom, Ignis. But he’d never find them. And somewhere through the labyrinth, Noct would realize that everything around him was turning dark and bloody, the walls oozing blood, becoming visceral and fleshy, and they’d begin closing in around him.

 

He’d scream and run and it’d do absolutely no good, until he cried himself into a waking, frenzied mess, his dad coming running in the night to comfort him. Ignis had started sleeping over every night around that time, and eventually he started sleeping right in Noct’s bed.

 

The dreams went on until Noct hit puberty, though they slowly faded over the years. He hasn’t thought about them in a long time.

 

Tonight though, Noct’s wandering down hallways that look like the own hallway in his apartment. He can hear Prompto calling his name. Noct’s confused, and disoriented, because he hasn’t quite figured out that it’s a dream. The hallway that should run a near straight line through the length of their apartment twists and turns, and where rooms should be, there are doors that don’t open, or simply solid wall that doesn’t have anything behind it. And Noct can still hear his best friend’s voice, calling out to him.

 

There’s a deep-seated urgency to it, a need to find Prompto. Even though Noctis doesn't know what he's running from, he can feel things closing in on him. He can feel something, anything, some damn dark presence, and that's absolutely terrifying. Hell, he feels like a little kid again, waiting for his dad, or Ignis, or someone to come save him. There's nobody now though. He's all grown up.

 

"Prom?" Noct's voice is wavering. He hears meowing ahead - turns a corner just in time to see the cat turn a corner, the tip of his tail barely hovering in Noct's vision. The blood is pounding in Noct's ears, rushing through him, his heart beating damn near out of his chest.

 

All he can do is chase after the cat. Noctis doesn't know what else to do; is there another option? He doesn't know anymore. He's terrified, lost, wondering if the walls will close in before he can find Prompto - and what now? What then? His best friend's calling out for him, and Noct can't find him.

 

He can't keep up with the cat, either. The hallways seem narrower. They're still solid, still painted the same colours as their apartment, the hallway a charcoal grey with white trim, floors hardwood and worn, but nothing is the same. Nothing feels cozy or homelike. It's all... old, and it feels like it belongs to someone else. Like Noctis is a fucking intruder in a home that isn't really his own. He turns around corner and even the lighting is dimmed even more, until it's barely more than shadows.

 

But Noct's breath catches in his throat, because there's a door in front of him, and it's standing half open. He doesn't hesitate - though maybe he should - and he pushes the door open, rushes inside, and Prompto's there.

 

"Fuck, Prom, I was scared," Noct laughs a little breathlessly, making the admission far more openly than he wants to. But he's so fucking relieved to see his best friend. There's a moment before Prompto lifts his eyes where Noct tumbles forward, gets his arms around Prompto and tugs him close. He's got him in a tight embrace before Prompto lifts his head, before their eyes meet - and Noct jerks away, lets his arms fall limp to his side.

 

It's his dad's eyes, not Prompto's.

 

"Son," and it's not Prompto's voice anymore either, it's his dad's. Was it ever Prompto's voice calling out for him? Or is Noct just fucked up here, too. "I'm disappointed in you. This isn't what I want."

 

Noctis wakes up with a start, a tangled mess of sweaty sheets and limbs, and Prompto's arms secure around him. He's not screaming, but he's gasping and panting and mumbling out words that are - blessedly - indiscernible.

 

"Hey," Prompto's awake too, and Noctis groans, flushes despite the panic, and for several long moments as he wakes up, as he comes out of whatever fucking nightmare he'd fallen headfirst into, he's fighting off the urge to push his best friend away. For a moment, he's worried that it's actually his dad. Maybe he's dreamed the past months away. Maybe none of this has happened.

 

"Noct," Prompto's voice is saying his name though. There's none of the panic, none of the despair that he's been chasing in his head though. And Noct slowly blinks his bleary eyes open, lifts his head to catch Prompto's gaze in the darkness, and there's concern, affection, a bit of fear there. But it's undeniably Prompto. "You okay? You were... havin' a rough dream."

 

"They happen sometimes," Noctis offers up quietly. He's more than a little embarrassed now that he's rousing, but he hasn't made any effort to untangle himself from Prompto. On the contrary, he's wrapping his arms around his best friend. Prompto's so close that their foreheads are brushing together. He feels cool, collected, compared to Noct's sweat-slick, fevered skin. It's reassuring, reminds Noctis that he's here, that his dad isn't what? Watching over them? Judging? Wondering where he went wrong, with his son's shitty life choices? Noctis doesn't know.

 

Noctis takes another deep, shuddering breath. "I haven't had... an awful dream like that in years. Ask Iggy though, they used to... be common." He doesn't offer up any more details than that. And he somehow doesn’t think Prompto will ever actually ask about it, anyway. It’s mortifying, really.

 

Prompto though, he does the best thing Noctis can imagine, because his best friend nods, and doesn’t say anything about that. “You’re okay, Noct,” Prompto says instead, and Noct’s cheeks flush again, because this time, there’s a gentle sweep of lips over Noct’s forehead. Noctis thinks maybe this is pushing that line, _again,_ and that he should pull away from Prompto, that he should roll over and go back to sleep.

 

Instead, Prompto holds him there a moment, then reaches around blindly, searching for his own phone, which has gotten lost somewhere in Noct’s bed. “Hey, what time is it?”

 

Noct’s horribly comfortable, curled up against Prompto. And his best friend’s arms around him feels good, comforting. He scoots back enough to fumble for his own phone though, and even set to the minimum brightness level, the screen is damn near blinding. It takes a moment for Noct’s eyes to adjust, and he groans when he makes out the time. Four thirty in the fucking morning. Way too early to get up, but too late for Noct to properly fall back asleep. It’s Monday, and that means class, which means Noct has to get up at a decent time.

 

“It’s _early,_ ” Noct grumbles out his response, and he tosses his phone to the side, burying his face back in Prompto’s chest. That’s definitely crossing a line or three, but putting his cock in his best friend’s ass (hell, letting Prompto do that to _him_ ) was probably the point of no return here, anyway. Hell, maybe it was even before that, with all the weird stuff they’ve been doing. Curling up close now though? This is what Noctis wants, even though it makes him think that maybe, probably, he knows it’s a bad idea. That’s why he’s having dreams of his dad and Prompto and it’s all mixed up, right?

 

“You wanna get up and play some games? Or put on a movie?” Prompto suggests, his lips still brushing over Noct’s sweaty forehead. His best friend’s hands have settled at the small of Noct’s back, holding him in that gentle, comforting embrace. Noct wants to sleep. He just wants to drift off again. But even as they stay like this for a few moments, as he hesitate to respond and the silent ticks from seconds into minutes, it’s not going to happen. Sleep isn’t coming, it’s nowhere near the forefront of Noct’s mind.

 

“Yeah,” he says finally, after a few more of those minutes stretch between them. So, shifting and pulling apart, they get up. Noct tugs the heavy comforter off his bed and wraps it around him, and they make their way in the darkness through the apartment and into the living room. Prompto’s stifling a yawn and he wipes the sleep out of his eyes, and his hair is mussed up in every other direction. Noctis feels momentarily guilty, as they settle back down on the couch, Noct spreading the blanket out over them. His best friend’s _exhausted,_ and here they are instead, curling up together and turning on the television.

 

If Prompto’s that tired though, he doesn’t show it, because he curls an arm around Noct and lets him lean in a little. Whenever Noctis shifts his gaze from the tv (they just put on some stupid anime Prompto’s into; not entirely Noct’s thing, but it’s entertaining, and distracting), he catches Prompto watching him out of the corner of his eye. It makes Noct blush and dip his head down, but if he’s being truthful, he’s… grateful, in a way he can’t even begin to express.

 

Eventually, Noctis dozes off, as the sun begins to rise in the sky and casts thick rays of golden light across the room. He’s semi-aware of Prompto pressed close, that arm still around him, but the fingers that have settled on his hip are comforting. And when Noct wakes up properly a few hours later, to the annoying chime of his alarm back in his bedroom, loud enough to rouse him even from here, he’s alone. There’s a moment, just a instant, of panic, of Noct realizing he’s _alone._ But a split second later, Prompto’s poking his head in from the kitchen.

 

“I’ll get your alarm. Gotta wake up though, sleepybutt. I made pancakes.”

 

Noct’s heart shouldn’t flutter in his chest. He shouldn’t have this dumb smile on his face. For once, it’s not too difficult to drag himself off the couch. He’s sore, and aching, and that nightmare is still fresh on his mind, but the pancakes smell good, and Prompto added chocolate chips, too, just the way Noct likes them.

 

\---

 

Noctis is grateful when Prompto doesn’t bring up the nightmare thing again. The day passes uneventfully, and now that that rare weekend off is over, Prompto’s back at work after classes. It leaves Noct with a strange feeling of emptiness, one that is… entirely unsettling. So instead, sitting alone in the apartment, he decides to pack. He pulls his suitcase out of the closet, and realizes it’s still full of clothes he just never bothered to unpack when they moved in. It’s all stuff he obviously doesn’t wear, but Noct doesn’t entirely know what to do with it. The smart move, probably, would be to dump it all in a plastic bag and get rid of it.

 

Instead, he dumps his suitcase onto the floor of his closet and kicks the pile off to the side, so that it’s not visible from the door. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Noct drags his suitcase into the middle of the floor. He sits on the bed, and frowns. He’s got a list of stuff to pack, one that his dad sent him (though luckily his father was smart enough to tell Noct that he’ll take care of the suit, because Noct’s pretty sure the spare one he has tucked away is in need of a dry cleaning and a good, hard pressing). But it seems like a monumental effort. And then, there’s the whole… date thing. With Luna.

 

Noct’s stomach does a flip as he thinks about that. He feels… what? Scummy. Yeah. Like he’s a giant asshole, leading Luna on. Or maybe it’s _Prompto_ he’s leading on. Noctis hasn’t really thought much about this supposed date. He should probably make a reservation somewhere, but that seems… forced, like he’s triyng too hard. Is he trying too hard?

 

“I should pack something nice,” Noctis says aloud. There’s a ‘meow’ in response, and he groans as he realizes that Peanut has padded into the room, and has immediately taken up residence in the open suitcase. “You wanna come along, huh? Wonder if Luna likes cats…” Noct laughs a little though, and he pulls his phone out, snaps a picture of the cat sprawled in his suitcase, and texts it to Prompto with the caption ‘stealin ur cat.’

 

Noct sighs though, and he leans over the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, forehead drooping down. This trip, it’s wearing on his mind. He’s got a choice to make, that much is obvious. Noctis isn’t very smart. He’s been running himself in circles ever since this, whatever _this_ even is, has started with his best friend. Noct’s not sure what the right thing to do is. Whatever he’s got with Prompto, no matter how _good_ it feels… it’s not a long term thing, is it? Noct tries to picture bringing Prompto home to his dad, to family dinners, to… fuck, to what?

 

“I’m too young to be thinking about this shit,” Noctis sighs quietly, but his dad will want a grandkid someday, won’t he? The Caelum family legacy, it’s something his dad has talked about, now and then, about how he rebuilt the company with nothing but two hands and a working attitude that wouldn’t give up. About how that will be Noct’s someday, for him to pass down to his kids, and…

 

Noct’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, and it’s a response from Prompto. There’s a few heart-eyed emojis and, ‘stole my heart AND my cat? the worst, noct!”

 

He really is the worst. Noct’s stomach does a flip again, and he decides fuck packing, he’s going to take a nap instead. The lack of sleep from the night before is catching up to him, anyway.

 

\---

 

As Prompto drags Noct to class on Tuesday morning, he makes a decision. It’s a cold day, one where Noct can see his breath hanging in the air. Miraculously, they’re actually a few minutes early, and they stop for coffee. Well, Prompto gets a coffee. Noctis orders a hot chocolate with extra whip. Prompto grumbles about “that’s like six hundred calories, I don’t even know how you stay that skinny Noct” but Noctis ignores him and dumps some extra chocolate shavings on his drink before he fastens the lid back in place.

 

The drink warms one hand though as they walk. The other hand is warmed when Prompto reaches and twines their fingers together. It makes Noct’s stomach jump, and he sets his jaw, resolute. He’s made a _decision._

 

“You okay, Noct?” Prompto tips his head inquisitively, as they make their way onto campus. Noct’s suddenly very aware that there are people around them, and they’re holding hands like it’s _nothing._ He tries to be casual about it as he tugs his hand away, lets it hang heavy at his side. He’s probably blushing a little, and Noct tries to play it off as the cold air getting to him.

 

“I’m fine, Prom,” Noct’s not sure if he is. His fingers twitch. He feels suddenly lonely. Fuck it. When they take their seats in the lecture hall, Noct discreetly reaches under the table and tangles their fingers together again, when he’s certain nobody can see from this particular angle. He swears that Prompto relaxes visibly in his own seat, and that his best friend’s lips twitch upward into a smile.

 

What is he doing? Noct doesn’t know. Fuck, he doesn’t know.

 

\---

 

Noct’s got momentary reprieve from the awkwardness later though. Tuesdays mean that after this first, initial class, their schedules don’t quite line up for the rest of the day. Noct’s got the four hour break from hell on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he’s started spending that time with Aranea, as much as she’ll tolerate him. Maybe today Noct’s just a bit quicker to jump to his feet, to wave Prompto off as he mumbles something about needing to study, and library time.

 

He doesn’t go to see her though, not today. Maybe it’s because Noct just wants to be alone. Or hell, maybe it’s because he knows Aranea’s very no-nonsense, that she’ll see right through his bullshit, and she’ll cut to the heart of the issue, relentless and unforgiving. Instead, Noct ends up hiding in the back of a coffee shop near campus. Not their usual one, though, because he’s… well, he isn’t _afraid_ of seeing Prompto, or someone he knows. Rather, Noct just doesn’t want to have to explain himself.

 

Noctis orders a soda and a sandwich, and he and he hunches low, his books spread out in front of him. He’s not looking at his books, though. Instead, he’s flipping through his phone, going through his photos. It’s mostly selfies Prompto has taken, when he’s grabbed Noct’s phone out of his hands and starts messing around with it. Noct… hell, he doesn’t know what to think. He takes a bite of his sandwich, and groans because there’s a bit of lettuce stuck in there.

 

There’s one photo in particular that makes Noct pause. Prompto took it right after they’d moved in together. Before things got all out of hand, when it was still… well, maybe it was never quite normal, never really acceptable. But at least back then, it was just a friends with benefits thing. The photo though, is one that Noct had snapped while they were walking down the street, Prompto’s arm slung over his shoulder. They’re both smiling, and… Noct realizes how _happy_ he looks.

 

He can’t stomach looking at it. Noct’s finger hovers over the ‘delete’ button, but instead he puts his phone down. He pulls the top slice of bread off his sandwich and picks away all the lettuce instead. And, not for the first time, Noctis wishes that life was easier.

 

He almost – almost – calls his dad, asks to meet up before they go away. But… what fucking good would that do?

 

\---

 

Wednesday, shit hits the fan.

 

“What’s your deal, Noct?” Prompto’s waiting for Noctis when he gets home from his evening class. He’s sitting outside, on the deck. The light next to the door is on, but it’s dark out. Noct can still make out the faint glow of Prompto’s cigarette, and the swirl of chalky smoke rising in the night air between them. Prompto’s been trying to quit lately, and Noct feels a jolt of guilt, because he can’t help but think that it’s his fault his best friend’s out here, indulging. Dealing with him has gotta be a stressful situation.

 

And. Yeah. Noct has a deal.

 

Okay, so maybe Noct went right to bed the night before. Maybe he didn’t wait up for Prompto. And maybe, he got a few texts from his best friend while he was at work, and he didn’t respond to them. Maybe he didn’t eat the breakfast Prompto left for him that morning, opting to skip eating altogether. Noct’s appetite is shot, for one thing. For another… it’s all just a giant fucking mess. The cat has definitely been judging Noct for his poor life choices, because he’s stalked Noctis around the apartment and glared at him with those big glowing eyes.

 

“Tired,” Noctis shrugs. That’s not entirely a lie. It’s just not the whole truth. It doesn’t even begin to touch upon the way his stomach keeps doing flips when he thinks about his best friend. Or the way that he keeps opening saved photos of Luna, keeps staring her portrait down and waiting for some sort of similar reaction at seeing her smiling face. There’s fondness, and Noctis absolutely loves her, but… well, it’s just not the same.

 

It’s because he hasn’t seen her in person in _years,_ Noctis reminds himself. This weekend, it’s going to change everything. He’s already decided that, damnit, and Noct’s got faith.

 

“You went to bed early last night,” Prompto leans back in the shitty little folding chair they’ve got out there. He tips his head back, and Noct watches him exhale, the tendrils of smoke rising and ebbing up into the night.

 

“Thought you were quitting,” Noct doesn’t acknowledge Prompto’s words, instead he leans forward, and their fingers brush together, and he outright plucks the cigarette from Prompto’s fingers. It’s a dick move, and it’s pushing at some boundaries, but Noct doesn’t care. He crushes the end of the cigarette under his finger against the side of the wooden railing, and flicks the butt over the edge of the deck.

 

“I am quitting,” Prompto watches him in the dim light, and Noct’s pretty sure he’s glaring, “dick move, Noct. That was my last one.”

 

“Good,” Noctis wonders suddenly, abruptly, _overwhelmingly,_ if Prompto tastes thick and heavy, like the smell of the smoke hanging in the air. He hates the smell of cigarettes, but it smells like _Prompto,_ too, and before Noct even fucking knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching down and cupping Prompto’s chin, tipping his best friend’s face up. He’s leaning in again, and this time, they’re kissing. Noct’s tongue slips into Prompto’s mouth, greedy and urgent, and he absolutely tastes like smoke and tobacco and whatever the hell else it is that makes up that stupid intoxicating flavor that is his best friend. Fuck.

 

“Gonna go to bed early again,” Noct’s voice is rough, as rough as the kiss, and he goes back in for another one, their teeth clacking together, their noises bumping. The angle’s bad, and even if they’ve _learned_ how to kiss each other, there’s an urgency that Noctis hasn’t quite felt before. Maybe because he’s got a decision, and he thinks he’s made it. Maybe _especially_ because of that.

 

“That an invitation?” Prompto pulls away, but he groans because Noct’s teeth are on his jaw, nipping, tongue seeking out the sensitive spots they’ve explored before. Prompto’s not innocent though, not by any means, because his hand snakes between Noct’s legs, and Noctis outright _moans_ against his friend’s skin at the first brush of fingers over his clothed cock.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis laughs a little, the words catching in his throat as Prompto palms over his growing erection, “it is.”

 

Prompto doesn’t respond – at least not with words. His friend gives him a rough little shove, and he’s climbing up out of the chair. He takes Noct’s hand, and they head inside. And as frantic as the last time they did this was, with heated kisses all down the hallway, pressing each other against various surfaces, rutting together and losing clothing, this time is different. It’s a deliberate walk down the hallway, into Noct’s bedroom. It’s the two of them, hand in hand, entirely sober, alcohol or drugs or anything else to blur their minds. It’s fucking _terrifying._

  
Noctis sits down on the edge of the bed, and he feels _awkward._ He’s not sure why he feels so awkward, because they’ve done this before. Fuck, they’ve done all this, and more than once. He’s half-hard in his pants, and he’s very aware of that, as Prompto stands before him, eyes him with an expression that Noct can only describe as hungry, eager.

 

“Noct,” Prompto says quietly, and there’s… fuck, there’s emotion there. Noct blinks a few times, and their eyes meet. His stomach’s fucking leaping into his throat. Drawing in a deep breath, Noctis shifts back on the bed, drawing his shirt up over his head. He leans back, resting on his elbows, and still, he’s fucking watching Prompto’s reaction. There’s both a rising curiosity, and a dread, and overall… hell, there’s _need._ Noctis absolutely wants this, he realizes.

 

“Come here,” Noct replies, and that’s all the invitation his best friend needs, apparently. The bed shifts, and Prompto climbs over him, one thigh pressed up between Noct’s legs, the other against his hip. Their lips crush together, the kiss just as needy, as rough and heated as before, though a bit smoother. There’s a hand on Noct’s chest, fingers grazing over his nipples, and Noctis moans into the kiss. Prompto’s fucking figured out how to touch him – formerly tentative touches are steady now, confident and assuring as fingers graze over Noct’s ribs, down his sides, over toned abdomen. It’s a whole lot of fire, spreading all through him, and Noctis lets go of all the worry, all the thoughts about what fucking comes next, because right now, does it matter?

 

It doesn’t matter. Later it will, but right now? Noct breaks the kiss, just long enough to get Prompto’s shirt off. His touch is fucking reverent as he goes in, hands starting at Prompto’s shoulders, tracing over freckles there. Prompto looks good. He _feels_ good under the pads of Noct’s fingers. Noctis wants to say it, but they’re kissing again, instead, and that’s probably better. That’s safer, at least.

 

“ _Noct,”_ Prompto says his name again in that absolutely perfect way, gasps it, more than anything, as Noctis touches him. Noct’s used to touching by now – they’ve done _this_ enough times. It never grows old though. Hell, the more they do this, the more Noct appreciates it. He still remembers the chubby kid he’d first met, and now? Prompto’s all lean muscle, only those silvery thin lines on his hips and stomach serving as memories of how far he’s come. Everything else is smooth, it’s sharp lines and taut muscle and fuck, Noct wants to get inside him again, or to have Prompto buried in him, those powerful thighs working to thrust deeper into him.

 

Noct’s hard though, and it’s impossible to think about exactly what he wants, when Prompto’s fingers work at his pants and get inside. His mind short-circuits, with the first rough pump of Prompto’s fist around his cock. He’s gasping out, fingers gripping into Prompto’s hips suddenly and violently, hips jerking forward. Prompto _knows_ how to touch him by now, fuck, that’s a realization Noct’s suddenly coming to terms with. They’ve done this enough times that it’s goddamn familiar.

 

Some of the reverence, the worshipfulness, it’s lost as Noct scrabbles for purchase against Prompto’s skin. He gets his pants shoved down his hips, works Prompto’s cock out flush and hard against his belly, and it’s already wet at the tip. Any great romantic notions Noctis had about getting inside, about fucking each other into the mattress, it all flutters away as Prompto jerks his erection. He’s all pent up, and it’s probably the stress, the nerves eating away at him, the realization that this really _is_ a problem, that’s wound Noctis up tighter than a spring. Noct’s jerking his hips up in time with Prompto’s strokes, and he can feel his release pooling hot and desperate in his belly.

 

“You gotta stop,” Noct gasps out, “ ‘m not gonna last,” even though he doesn’t _want_ Prompto to stop, and the soft noises that he’s making absolutely drive that point home. He’s trying to jerk Prompto off in time, and Noctis knows how to return the favour, with quick, rough jerks that Prompto prefers, but it’s hard to focus when he’s so close, when his mind is starting to turn to mush and the need is pulsing through his veins like quicksilver.

 

“Good,” Prompto’s voice is breathy against Noct’s ear, and it makes him shudder. Noct’s oversensitive, and just the brush of Prompto’s lips against the shell of his ear is maybe what does it. Or maybe it’s the way Prompto’s fingers dip into the slit of his cock and slick him up with precum. Whatever it is, Noct’s arching entirely off the bed, his eyes are clenched shut and he’s moaning Prompto’s name, moaning a whole slew of nonsense, as he splatters his belly and Prompto’s hand with his release.

 

Prompto’s still hard, pulsing desperate and needy in his hand as the world spins, as Noctis sinks down, his orgasm ripping through him and leaving him a boneless mess on the bed. There’s the urge to sink down, to sprawl and pull Prompto on top of him, but even though Noct’s selfish as hell in some ways, he’s not about to leave his best friend hard and aching. Noctis works his hand over Prompto’s erection, feeling it twitch and leak against his fingers, and it’s a strange mix of feelings, of affection, of desire, of something deep and _intimate,_ knowing that he’s getting his best friend off like this.

  
Prompto leans in, presses their foreheads together, and he’s shaking, eyes wide and blissed out, hips jerking in that tell-tale sign that he’s on the edge. “C’mon, Prom,” Noct encourages in a low, needy voice, biting down on his lip, eyes boring into his best friend’s, and _that_ is what does it for Prompto. Noct feels him twitch, his hips snap forward, and there’s wet heat coating his fingers, getting all messy and sticky between them. And the _way_ Prompto gasps out, moans his name, that’s fucking _everything_ to Noctis, it makes him tremble and makes his heart pound in his chest, desperate and wanting.

 

“That was…” Prompto gasps out quietly as he sinks down on top of Noctis, spreading the mess everywhere. They’re both hot to the touch, chests heaving, sticky and wet with sweat and come, and Noct’s mind is trying, really damn hard, to pull him in two opposite directions. He’s content, he’s so goddamn happy, even as he wipes his fingers off on the blankets and gets an arm around his best friend. Because Noct’s about to fuck everything up, and he _knows_ it, but it’s out of his control. All he can do is sit back and watch as he barrels on down the road, unable to brake it or jump out or do anything but approach the oncoming doom of it all.

 

“Good?” Noct offers up, when Prompto trails off into silence. His best friend cracks a smile at that, and then a quiet laugh bubbles up, and Noctis can’t help it either, because the laughter is contagious, and suddenly they’re both gasping and smiling and shaking a little with a strange, infectious giggling. _Good._ What a fucking dumb thing to say – of course it was good, they just jerked each other off in Noct’s bed, are outright pressed up close and what? Cuddling now?

 

“Really good,” Prompto agrees. He goes in for a kiss, and Noctis shivers, tips his head up just a little to meet Prompto’s lips. “Noct, I… everything is… this is awesome. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

 

 _This._ Noctis freezes. He doesn’t want to freeze up, to look like anything’s wrong, but suddenly Prompto draws back, and his eyes are wide, have lost some of that blissed out, glossy, ‘just got fucked’ look. Goddamnit. Noctis tries to shake his head and relax again, but the damage has been done. They’ve gotten into the subject of _this._ And it’s stupid, because it could mean anything. It could mean the sex, the handjobs, the just… closeness of it. The fact that they’re two best friends, sharing a moment. It doesn’t have to be more than that.

 

It’s Noct’s mind that is taking the word and twisting it into a thousand hypotheticals, a hundred scenarios playing out in his head, most of which are just… utterly impossible. The ones that seem plausible? They end in ruin, with his dad staring him down, quietly disappointed, pushing him out of his life forever. It’s knowing that he’s let everyone down. It’s… Noctis doesn’t know, because he wants it anyway, but he’s already made a decision, and it involves Tenebrae, and not being here, in this bed, doing exactly _this._

 

“Prom, I…” Noct’s voice quivers, but Prompto’s drawing back. Noctis wants to scream, and he wants to tug Prompto back into his arms, for them to press their foreheads together and stay curled up in a tangled heap as the sex cools between them. It’s too late though, because without saying much of anything at all, Noct’s slipped up.

 

“It’s okay, Noctis,” Prompto says, and his voice is dangerously cool as he scoots back, “you don’t need to say it. We… we aren’t anything, are we, Noct?”

 

Noctis lifts his eyes to catch Prompto’s, and he’s a little afraid of the flash of emotion he sees there. For once, Noctis absolutely can’t read his best friend. He’s usually a little bit okay with figuring out what’s going through Prompto’s mind. At least, he was until all _this_ started happening. Again, with the ‘this.’ It’s gone and fucked everything up. Because right now? Noct’s pretty sure he sees _anger_ there, or maybe it’s sadness, disappointment… hell, hopefulness? That’s the worst thought of all. Noct dips his head down, and he’s very intently staring at the blanket. It’s a disgusting mess, with handprints and wet spots, and he pretends to be concerned about that instead of everything else.

 

“We’re best friends, Prom,” Noct says, and his words are quiet, the most insecure, insincere fucking thing he’s ever said. It’s embarrassing how small his voice is. Noctis wants to think that he sounds firm, but he’s horribly aware that he’s wavering here. And hell, for a moment, he thinks Prompto’s going to refuse to accept that. And if Prompto just… closes the distance, gets his arms around him, their lips pressed together again, Noctis thinks he might crack, it all might come bursting out, and he’ll beg Prompto to stay in his bed, to fucking hold him and what? Love him? _Be with him?_

 

Prompto stares at him for a long moment. The silence is heavy, suffocating. Noct can’t bring himself to look up at his best friend. The bed shifts though, and that moment, that quiet, desperate hope, subsides as Prompto stands up.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Prompto’s voice is as heavy as his footsteps as he retreats. “I gotta work late tomorrow, Noct. I’ll… I’ll see you when you get back from Tenebrae, okay? Say hi to Luna for me.”

 

Noct would worry about the nightmares catching hold of him tonight, but he doesn’t think he’ll sleep. He worries that he’ll hear Prompto sobbing in the next room over, but there’s silence, and maybe that’s worse. He should change the sheets, but that involves getting up out of bed. It involves getting dressed and cleaning himself up, and worse, maybe he’ll run into Prompto. So instead, pathetic and numb, Noct tucks himself up into a ball and tugs the dry edge of the blankets up over him, and he stares out at the window. At some point it starts to rain. Later still, he actually manages to doze, but it’s not a restful sleep. When he wakes up in the morning, it’s Thursday. Even though they share that early morning class, Prompto is already gone. Noct should go to class. Instead he says fuck it, rolls over, and goes back to bed.

 

At some point, the cat curls up next to him, and that’s more comforting than it should be, because it’s _Prompto’s_ cat, and in a way, it’s like Noct isn’t quite so alone, or quite so fucked up.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took ages. noctis was not cooperating with me here. i finally just dragged my ass to a local coffee shop and sat down and refused to leave until i'd finished this chapter. it was successful. 
> 
> anyway, i promised smut and then angst, and i have thus delivered. someone save this boy from his dumb, idiotic mind, god noctis, you are so fucking dumb, you're lucky you're adorable and gorgeous and stupidly endearing, because otherwise nobody would deal with your bullshit.


	18. There's a Storm Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct's got a battle to fight, a war to wage. Whether it’s with an actual enemy though, or just himself, is entirely up for debate.

The only reason Noctis ends up getting out of bed at all, or packed for that matter, is because Ignis shows up. When the bell rings, Noct ignores it. He swiftly hears the lock click and the door open though and he remembers that Ignis has a key. Goddamnit, why did he give Ignis a key? (The answer, of course, is for situations just like this, when Noct is being a complete idiot.)

 

Noct rolls over and closes his eyes and pretends to sleep. He’s always been bad at faking it though, or else Ignis just sees right through him, because he can feel his old friend’s eyes on him as he leans in the doorway.

 

“Get up, Noctis,” Ignis says finally, after a long moment of silence. Noct makes a grunting noise, his best attempt at an ‘I’m definitely sleeping’ type of sound. It doesn’t trick Ignis though, because next thing Noct knows, the blankets are being yanked off him. He grumbles, and he’s grateful that he got up to pee earlier, because otherwise he’d still be naked. Not that Ignis hasn’t seen _that_ before, but still. Noct’s barely holding on to his dignity here.

 

“ ‘m up,” Noctis sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Why are you _here?”_

Ignis is standing over Noct, and even though he’s firmly covering his eyes, Noct can fucking feel the disapproval. The only question, really, is whether that disapproval is aimed at Noct’s disheveled form, hair a matted mess, eyes puffy, or the state of his room – half-packed suitcase, clothes strewn everywhere. Or maybe it’s the fact that Noctis very clearly skipped class. Or the cat, who jumped off the bed when the blankets were disturbed. Noctis can currently hear the cat hissing his displeasure. Probably, Ignis is here – and pissed off - for a combination of all these very good reasons.

 

“I’m here,” he’s speaking in that clipped, exasperated tone that Noctis knows _very_ well from his childhood, “because your father asked me to be here. You’ve ignored his messages. And my messages. And my _six_ phone calls.”

 

Noct absolutely has made a point of ignoring his phone. He’s not even sure where it is. At some point he heard it vibrating, yeah, and it’s probably tangled in the sheets or the space between the mattress and headboard, but… well, if Noct’s being honest with himself, he was worried it would be Prompto.

 

“I was just sleeping,” Noctis points out the obvious – well, the obvious lie at least. He gives up the act though, sits up and combs his fingers through his hair and offers Ignis what he can only hope is a haughty, annoyed, ‘just been woken up by my annoying friend’ expression. Ignis’s eyes seem to soften just a smidge, and Noct thinks he’s probably pulled it off.

 

“Sleeping through your classes _and_ several phone calls is a poor way to start your trip with your father,” Ignis points out, and Noct’s painfully aware of how unprepared he is for any of this. “You’re leaving first thing in the morning, so your father wants you to spend the night at his place. If you’d answered your phone, you would be aware of this plan.”

 

Noct’s pretty sure his dad had mentioned that at some point or another too over the past week or two. Of course, his memory’s been pretty shitty, or selective rather, all caught up with his other issues. All he can do now is shrug and nod. It’s a good excuse to get out of the apartment, after all, and he can avoid seeing Prompto before he leaves. That’s a jolt of guilt, because… Noct doesn’t think he should be running away like this. Probably, they shouldn’t leave on bad terms.

 

“I’m gonna take a shower and get dressed,” Noctis crawls out of bed, Ignis watching him with eyes that are far too sharp, far too piercing from behind those perfect glasses.

 

“I’ll pack your suitcase,” Ignis offers. Noctis pauses, because legally, he’s a grown adult. He lives on his own. And for all intents and purposes, he’s… getting there. But right now? Noct’s absolutely not prepared, and he’s overwhelmed.

 

“Okay,” he says with a feigned casual shrug, but as Noct turns to leave the room, Ignis continues.

 

“On one condition. We’re talking about this, Noctis.”

 

Noct freezes, and just for a split second, he opens his mouth to tell Ignis to leave, that he’ll find his own way to his dad’s, that he can pack his own goddamn suitcase. But… there’s a tremble, and a long, heaving sigh, instead. Noctis braces a hand on the doorframe, and he wants to look over his shoulder, but he realizes, quite suddenly, that he’s horribly ashamed to have Ignis look at him right now.

 

“Yeah. We can talk,” Noct agrees, and he makes his quick retreat into the bathroom. He takes a long, hot shower, leaning back against the wet tile, head tipped into the stream of water. Noct’s taken a whole lot of hot showers over the past couple of months, but this time, he’s lonely, confused for a _very_ different reason, and horribly conflicted. And maybe this is the first moment when Noctis realizes the mistake he’s made is very different from what he’s been thinking this whole time.

 

Ignis has done an expert job of packing when Noct pads back into the room, hair damp and curled at the back of his neck, a towel snug around his waist. The suitcase is fully packed, zippered shut, and standing at wait by the door. And Ignis is apparently offering Noctis some privacy to get himself back together, because the room is empty. It’s not unusual for Ignis to make himself at home at the kitchen table, or in the living room. So Noctis gets dressed. His phone’s sitting on the bed – Ignis must have found it, so he grabs that, though he still doesn’t look at the notifications that have blown up the lock screen. He makes a final sweep of the bathroom to grab his toothbrush and his razor, and finds his friend, who is indeed sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, thumbing through his phone.

 

Noct eases himself down on the couch next to his friend. He absolutely doesn’t want to talk about this. And hell, Ignis has been _good_ over the past months about not forcing Noctis to talk. He’s been giving him space. Noct feels small again, like a little kid – like all this progress he’s made, all these steps towards independence, they were all for nothing. He almost wants to laugh.

 

“Noct,” Ignis says his name in a certain tone that Noctis only half-recognizes. There’s some of Ignis’s usually exasperation there, yes. Some of the sternness. But there’s something _else_ too, and that’s new. It’s enough to pique Noct’s interest, though he tries not to show it, only acknowledges Ignis with a faint nod and a brief, almost shy gaze in his direction.

 

“I ran into Prompto on campus. Thought I’d catch you after your class,” Ignis, of course, cuts right to the chase. “That boy is a mess, Noctis. And _you_ skipped class.”

 

That much, Noct knows, is obvious, even without Ignis being able to actually place him in his apartment during class hours. But the fact that his friend has proof doesn’t help. Noctis sinks down in his seat a little and feels like a scolded child, caught with a hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “… first time it’s happened this semester. Only time, too. I…” he what? He's been fucking his best friend, and things have gotten really weird? Really intense? Noct thinks he _likes_ it? He can’t say that. No way in hell, not even to Ignis. Not even knowing what he knows.

 

“We got into a bit of a fight,” Noct offers up that much. It’s a little taste of honesty, he supposes. Not the full truth. Somehow, Noctis knows that Ignis is damn well aware of that, too.

 

“A fight. Is that what you call it?” Ignis regards him, and Noct forces himself to meet his eyes. He holds his gaze, head tipped back, a strange rush of ferocious pride keeping him there, locking the moment in place. Yeah, a fight, and it’s all his fault.

 

“It’ll work out,” Noctis sighs, “… I think it will.” Honestly? He’s not so sure. Noct thinks maybe he’s really gone and fucked things up this time. Will he come back to an empty apartment? Prompto’s got that job, after all, and he hasn’t exactly been paying rent here. He could find a new place easily enough. He’s probably got enough saved up. The idea of leaving, of coming back to a totally different world? Well, it’ll make things easier, but it’s not an idea that Noct wants to entertain.

 

“For both of your sakes,” Ignis can’t quite keep up that stern tone he’s going for, and his voice drops, sounds gentle, sympathetic even, “I hope you figure this out. You aren’t a child Noctis, and I’m not going to lecture you. It’s not just _your_ feelings at stake here, though.” Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and he finally breaks the gaze. Noct has a feeling he’s given the poor man a stress headache.

 

“In short,” Ignis stands up though, and he gives Noct a look that he can’t figure out, “stop being an asshole to your friend, Noct. Work it out. And for heaven’s sake, talk to your _father._ ”

 

That’s the last thing Noct is going to do.

 

“Iggy, you _know_ I’m not going to talk to my dad,” Noctis sighs heavily, awkwardly following back down the hallway to the front door. He slips into his sneakers – comfortable shoes, for traveling – and the backs are worn down from where Noct’s pulled them on without untying them. Ignis hates this particular pair of shoes, and it’s Noct’s subtle way of being a brat, even if… hell, even if he knows Ignis is telling him a harsh truth.

 

“You never do,” Ignis agrees with a sigh, holding the door open for Noct as he tugs his suitcase out. “But you _should._ He tries, Noct. Goodness knows you’re just the most stubborn son he could ever ask for.”

 

“Then maybe he should’ve asked for a different son,” Noct shrugs. He can’t talk to his dad. That’s the issue here. And maybe he’s a little pissed off that Ignis seems to be brushing over all of this. Does Ignis know everything? Noct thinks maybe he does. He suspects _something,_ that’s certain. Noctis has come a long way, but… hell, he’s still caught up in his own little world enough that he doesn’t realize just how obvious it’s become, to an outsider.

 

“Noctis,” Ignis locks the door behind them, and the last thing Noct sees is the cat standing in the doorway, staring at them, accusatorily, like he _knows_ they’re leaving for a good period of time. “You know he’s proud of you, right? Just… have fun on this trip. And _talk_ to him.”

 

“Whatever,” Noct scuffs his feet as he drags his suitcase down the stairs. Ignis is parked out front. The sun’s setting, and he realizes that he did actually manage  to mope away the entire day. He should feel worse about it. He thinks, just maybe, that he should ask Ignis to swing by the studio Prompto works at, but…

 

No. Noct’s pretty sure Prompto doesn’t want to see him. He stares out the window, lets Ignis fall into his usual rambling of things to say and not say, people that he’ll be around – various business aspects that Noct isn’t too concerned with. He’s pretty sure his dad isn’t going to put him in any place of particular importance, it’s a matter of being polite and keeping his head down.

 

Ignis parks the car in front of his father’s place when they get there. Noct moves to get out, but Ignis places a hand on his shoulder. It’s gentle, but firm, and Noct sighs and stays put.

 

“I know you’re trying to help,” Noct’s voice wavers a little, and he hates himself in that moment. He hates that he’s showing weakness. Somehow, he always ends up falling back on Ignis, whether it’s rushing to his place in a panic these days, or back when he was a child and crying on Ignis’s shoulder because his father was too busy at work for some reason or another. Noct wants to be better than this. He wants to be an _adult._ He wants to be worthy of the trust everyone is putting in him, in the freedom his dad is offering him, paying for this apartment and his education, and taking him on trips.

 

Noct wants to be worthy of Prompto’s friendship. Of Ignis’s kindness over the years, or Gladio’s tough, brotherly love. Of the damn time Aranea has put in helping him study for no reason other than maybe a strange misguided type of affection, sparked through whatever she shares with Ignis. Right now though, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve any of it.

 

“You challenge me, Noctis,” Ignis says slowly, quietly, and he’s thinking his words out carefully as he speaks, Noct knows that. Ignis rarely speaks without careful consideration, but Noct can tell his friend is struggling here – and Ignis doesn’t struggle with anything often. “You weren’t an easy child. And you were an even worse teenager.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, been there, heard that,” Noctis offers up, a little mildly, an attempt to diffuse whatever weirdness is happening here. Yeah, Noct loves teasing Ignis, and he likes getting under his skin and ruffling that composed exterior he keeps up. But seeing his friend genuinely conflicted, at a bit of a loss? It’s a bit like the moment when you realize your parents don’t know _everything._ Like realizing that growing up doesn’t simply happen overnight, and that adults struggle just as much as kids do, they just hide it better and have slightly better coping skills. Noct’s not at that point yet, but… well, it’s on the tip of his tongue. And he’s very unsettled by this conversation.

 

“It’s hard watching you make mistakes, and not stepping in,” Ignis continues. Noct chances a glance, and Ignis is drumming his gloved hands on the steering wheel – a nervous gesture. “I don’t want to watch you crash and burn, Noctis. I can only offer advice, and listen when you want to talk. I know you’re struggling with… certain things. Nobody can tell you what to do here. But please, be _careful._ ”

 

Ignis has always saved him in the past.

 

Noctis knows that whatever vague terms they’re using to dance around the subject, Ignis can’t save him here.

 

“Thanks for the ride, Iggy,” Noctis says quietly, and he meets Ignis’s gaze for a moment. There’s a strange flash of emotion. It’s all mixed up. It’s Noctis feeling alone, but also feeling… respected? Like this is Ignis telling him that he won’t be holding his hand anymore, and yeah, it’s lonely, but… in a strange sense, Noct feels like Ignis might be hopeful, here. It’s enough to send his mind spinning.

 

“Text me, let me know how the trip is going,” Ignis smiles. Noct unloads his suitcase and waves Ignis off with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, but Ignis knows he’s appreciative. Maybe even more confused than he was before, somehow, but… well, Noct’s used to being confused about everything.

 

\---

 

The downside to leaving on a business trip with his dad, Noct realizes, is that his dad is somehow even _busier_ with work than normal. Noctis wills up the courage to talk to his dad. He really, truly does. Except that his dad isn’t home when Noct lets himself into the condo.

 

So instead, he settles in and watches TV for a while. He opens his phone and finally checks his messages. Several from Ignis, from his dad, a few from Gladio, who apparently found out through _his_ dad… nothing from Prompto. Silence. That’s weird. Even when they’ve been back-and-forth and flip-flopping over the past weeks, Prompto’s never quiet on social media.

 

He must really, _actually_ be pissed.

 

When Noct’s dad shows up late in the evening, he’s got takeout with him, and a whole lot of work.

 

“Sorry, Noct,” he sounds exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, tailored suit looking a little ill-kept. Noct frowns; his dad’s lost weight again. “Something came up right before I was supposed to leave the office… Ignis told me he’d found you, dropped you off… something about you busy being with school work before leaving…”

 

Noct doesn’t think he deserves to have Ignis covering for him, but apparently his friend left out the whole ‘fighting with Prompto and sulking in bed and skipping class’ part.

 

“Dinner, and then an early bedtime, I think,” his dad continues with an exhausted sort of smile “we have to be out of here by four...”

  
Whatever will Noct’s mustered up, it all dissipates just as quickly as he found it. His dad really looks tired, but he’s all smiles _,_ despite it, and Noctis realizes it’s because they’re going on this trip together. He feels guilty that he’s been dreading it so much, that all his hang ups have made it into a _thing._ So Noct can’t bear to bring up any of the weirdness that’s been going on. Instead, he digs into his food – and he hasn’t eaten all day, so his appetite kicks in for once – and glances up at his dad.

 

“We haven’t been on a trip in ages, dad. I… thanks. I probably needed to get away for a bit.”

 

“That, I can agree to,” his father lifts his glass. It’s not often that Noct’s dad drinks, but he’s poured them both a glass of wine to have with dinner. Noctis lifts his own glass in a mock-salute. “I’m glad you’re coming along.’

 

“Me too, dad,” Noct is glad that he’s going. He wants to spend time with his father, he really does. And he absolutely wants to see Luna. It’s just… it’s bad timing, and he hopes that Prompto will be okay, when he gets home.

 

\---

 

At the airport, bleary-eyed and exhausted, Noctis finally breaks down and texts Prompto. Just a simple, ‘hey, sorry about the other day. Hope the cat keeps u company while im gone’ even though Noct obsesses and deletes and rewrites the message twenty different times before he finally hits ‘send.’ Of course, it’s early and Prompto’s still in bed.

 

The flight is long, but flying first class is _nice._ Noctis eyes the little complimentary bottles of alcohol longingly (he’s not above drinking away his sorrows) , but he chances a glance at his father and decides against it. He gets a soda instead and picks at the breakfast they serve. After a while, Noct puts on a podcast and closes his eyes and fitfully naps until they land in Tenebrae.

 

When he turns his phone out of airplane mode, there’s a text from Ignis, inquiring about how the trip is going. Prompto hasn’t responded though, and Noctis tries not to let it show, even though his heart is sinking.

 

“Everything okay, Noctis?” his father’s watching him with a curious expression, and for a moment, Noct wants to open up about it all.

 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

 

\---

 

It’s been so long since Noct’s been to Tenebrae that he barely remembers it. The months he spent here were primarily in the hospital, and apart from the view out of his window, of rolling hills and mountains, he never really got to experience the place. He doesn’t know what he expected, really – something exotic, maybe? And, well, it definitely feels different. It’s a lot _greener_ that Noctis remembers, even with it being late autumn. The architecture is different from Insomnia, too. Older, his father explains during the drive from the airport to their hotel, reminiscent of feudal eras long passed. Their hotel is nice, though. His dad’s gotten him his own room, which Noct appreciates maybe more than he can quite express. He’s always been a loner by default, and the idea of awkward, moody silence while he mopes and stares at his phone, waiting for a text from his best friend? Hard pass.

 

It’s easy enough to ignore the urge to check social media accounts and see if Prompto’s been uploading pictures though, because jetlag kicks in and Noct crashes _hard_ on Friday night. Lack of sleep helps with that.

 

Saturday involves his dad running him all over the city.

 

“I thought this was a business trip,” Noctis points out. They’re on a tour of a _castle._ An old castle. There’s some great, elaborate history. Their guide (a stern man with glasses and spiked hair that reminds Noct _way_ too much of Ignis) has spent the better part of the afternoon going into great detail about it. Noctis absolutely zones out after the first minute, but he hears something about some great war and an enemy territory trying to burn the place down to make a political statement. It sounds like a bad plotline to one of Prompto’s dumb video games.

 

“It is,” Noct’s father is eating it all up. He’s wearing a cheesy baseball cap, and Noctis doesn’t even wanna know where he got it. And a t-shirt and worn jeans. It’s really, _really_ weird not seeing his father in a suit. Unsettling, even. “I have business all week. But it’s the weekend. Look, Noct, they offer a _ghost_ tour, we should do that.”

 

“Ghosts?” Noctis rolls his eyes. Prompto would eat this up. He needs to stop thinking about Prompto. “The only ghosts haunting this place are the spirits of people who died of boredom on this dumb tour.”

 

“Surely, son of mine, you aren’t suggesting that this tour is boring?” his dad smiles. He’s got a camera and he’s taking photos of some old dungeon area where Noct is pretending they tortured people down here back in ancient times. Realistically, it probably saw very little use.

 

“Dunno, dad. Can definitely tell you I’m bored,” Noctis shoots back, leaning up against an old stone wall.

 

“Nice to meet you, Bored. I’m dad,” his father looks way too proud of himself. Noctis grumbles. It is going to be a _very_ long week.

 

\---

 

Sunday, Prompto texts Noctis back.

 

_‘Hope ur having fun, bring me a souvenir!!’_

It’s maybe not the message Noctis is hoping for (what’s he even hoping for? He doesn’t know) but it’s something. It breaks up the silence. It’s a sign that maybe this can be salvaged. Noct smiles at that thought, and it’s a tight-lipped, uneasy one, but there’s still optimism and hope bubbling up in his stomach, replacing some of the queasiness.

 

“Hey, dad?”

 

At least Sunday involves a trip into the city proper. The morning is a trip to a museum, and Noct actually enjoys himself there. He liked drawing a lot when he was younger, and even though he’s fallen out of the habit, he can still appreciate it.

 

They’re just finishing up lunch, at some casual little hole-in-the-wall place. Noctis likes it here. He decides that he likes Tenebrae. It’s easy to fall in love with the city. It’s nothing like Insomnia, and it’s maybe a bit terrifying, a bit unfamiliar, but it’s a nice kind of different. Being here with his dad, too? It’s weird, but… Noct can almost see where Ignis was coming from, with his advice. _Talk_ to him, he’d said, right?

 

“Something on your mind?” his father is watching him, and Noct hurries to shove his phone back in his pocket. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are red, and he’s probably still got that dumb smile spread across his face.

 

“We don’t talk about mom much,” Noctis blurts out suddenly. Where that’s coming from, he doesn’t know, but… it’s talking, right?

 

“No,” his father agrees, “you’re right, we don’t,” and he frowns a little, but it’s not necessarily an upset expression, more a … quiet, thoughtful one? Noct thinks that maybe that’s okay, and takes a sip of his soda.

 

“I wish we did sometimes,” Noctis says slowly. He picks up his dessert menu and scans it. Noct had been planning on skipping dessert, but suddenly it seems like a good idea. “I don’t know much about her.”

 

Maybe he’s pushing it a little, but it’s been a _good_ weekend, right? This is the most time he’s spent with his dad in way too long. And previous family trips, few and far between, they usually involved Gladio’s family, or Ignis. When was it just the two of them last? Noct doesn’t remember.

 

“You can ask,” his father replies, and Noct recognizes the smile on his dad’s face. It’s a tired one, but… there’s memories there, nostalgia, maybe? “I might not answer, Noct, it’s still hard, even now. But I’ll try.”

 

Noctis thinks that over. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, good manners be damned. There are a whole lot of questions running through his head. What was she like? How did they meet? Noctis knows she was sick a lot, that she just… wasn’t healthy, that she died when he was really little. And he thinks – no, he knows – that her death took a part of his dad, too.

 

“How did you know?” he says finally. “I mean… that you loved her? Or wanted to marry her?”

 

Their server comes by and Noctis orders pie. With ice cream. Why the hell not, he’s on vacation? Not like he’ll gain weight anyway. His father stays silent through the exchange, only speaking in that same slow, certain tone after they’re left in relative privacy again.

 

“Since when are you a romantic, Noctis? You really are growing up,” his father laughs, and Noct thinks, just for a moment, that his dad looks years younger. Noct has always looked more like his mom, but in that moment? He sees a bit of himself. It’s a little terrifying.

 

“There was no single magic moment, Noct, not like in the books, or the movies. Aulea – sorry, your mom – she was too good for me. I was always working so hard to prove myself, and she’d laugh and tell me to slow down, that I’d work myself into an early death and the rest of the world wouldn’t care what I’d done when I was dead…” there’s a pause as his father takes a sip of his coffee, and sighs heavily. For a moment, Noct thinks about stopping him, telling him that it’s okay, he doesn’t need to hear more. But then, his dad continues anyway, “ironic, isn’t it? The early death… whatever greater powers watch over us, Noctis, they have a sick sense of humour.”

 

“You don’t have to, dad,” Noct replies quickly, but he’s silenced with a wave of a hand.

 

“Yes, I do. We don’t talk enough. That’s my fault. I felt guilty, I tried to do everything, when I really should’ve been trying to do right by you. I’m fairly certain Ignis was more of a parent to you than I was,” the words are mild, joking even, but… well, they both knew there’s some truth there. Noctis doesn’t need to point out that his father has a point, that sometimes Ignis really _does_ feel more like a parent. But… even so, nobody will ever replace his father. Nobody ever can.

 

“To answer your question, Noct. The first time we got into an argument, a _real_ argument, she blew me off. She didn’t let me get away with my shit, and even when I showed up at her door with a gift and an apology, it wasn’t enough. Your mother, she told me that she’d never expect me to choose between her and the business, but that I needed to give her _something._ Or else she’d go to someone else who could. And… I knew, then and there, that I couldn’t lose her,” his father laughs, there, of all things, and when Noctis meets his gaze, there is a wetness shining in his eyes, one that makes Noct duck his head down in a strange sort of shame. He’s pretty sure  he doesn’t want to see his dad like this.

 

It’s a reminder, a heavy one, that one upon a time, his dad was just as young as he is now. Maybe not confused in quite the same way, but… finding himself, nonetheless. Making mistakes along the way.

 

“You’re a Caelum, Noctis,” his father says slowly, “you need someone who will stand up to your shit. Someone who will stand by you, too. But you’re stubborn – I am too, but your mother was even worse, and you’re like her. You need to find someone who is worth fighting for, and then you have to fight that battle.”

 

Noctis wonders if a battle is worth fighting. His mom, she died in the end anyway, didn’t she? Maybe his dad would’ve been happier if he’d lost early on. Maybe he’d be married to someone very different right now, with a totally different son. One who made him proud. He doesn’t say any of that, but the thought runs heavy through his mind.

 

Noct’s pie arrives. He pokes at it with his spoon. He’s not hungry, not really, but he digs in anyway. There’s a second spoon, and he holds it out to his father. “Pie, dad?”

 

“I shouldn’t,” his father says, but he laughs again, and this time it’s less cynical, less confusing, and Noctis smiles in return this time. “We’re on vacation, so why not?”

 

They split the pie. It’s actually pretty good. His father gets a call partway through, and has to attend a last-minute afternoon meeting. So much for the weekend. It’s okay though, because Noct’s pretty sure there’s a camera shop nearby, and maybe he’s got a battle to fight, a war to wage. Whether it’s with an actual enemy though, or just himself, is entirely up for debate.

 

\---

 

Being in charge of a big company, Noct decides, is exhausting.

 

He spends Monday following his dad around and being introduced to people. Most of them are unremarkable, boring looking people in boring suits talking about boring topics. A couple of them are eccentric, and they’re more interesting, but also extremely unsettling. Noct’s dad warns him about a particularly _weird_ dude (“just avoid eye contact and be polite but dismissive”) and Noct fucks up and ends up getting cornered by the strange scruffy dude in a fedora for something like an hour while his father is making the rounds at a meeting in a fancy hotel.

 

By the end of this particular meeting, Noct’s debating switching majors, because he absolutely can’t deal with this shit. He doesn’t like people, and people keep talking to him. He thinks he’s probably got some grey hairs coming in. And Noct’s not one to care about his image, but he absolutely stands in front of the large, full-sized mirror in the fancy hotel bathroom after. He inspects himself and he’s pretty sure he’s got a few new wrinkles.

 

Prompto doesn’t text again.

 

Noct’s fingers itch by Tuesday morning. He feels like he’s going to vomit. His stomach has jumped into his throat, and he’s struggling to keep breakfast down.

 

“Your little date is today, isn’t it?” his dad just has the absolute _decency_ to point out. The hotel has a fancy little breakfast restaurant. His father is eating eggs benedict. Noctis has ordered cereal from the children’s menu. The waitress asks him if he wants the complimentary coloring book and crayons it comes with, jokingly, and Noct absolutely agrees. If Prompto was here, he’d find it _hilarious._ Noct tucks into his bag; the exasperated look he's earned from his father (and will later earn from Ignis) makes it all worth it.

 

“Not a date,” Noct points out over a mouthful of cereal. Even though it's probably a date. “Just hanging out with Luna. I mean… she’s pretty. But we haven’t seen each other in _years.”_

Noctis wants to point out that he’s not sure how he feels about her anymore, but that seems unnecessary. His dad keeps bringing up the fact that this is apparently a ‘date’ and hell, isn’t that how Noct’s been thinking of it, too? He doesn’t want to disappoint. His stomach lurches again in agreement.

 

“I did always like her,” his father smiles, almost serenely. “And you’ve always had a thing for blondes.”

 

Noct chokes a little, milk sputtering down his front. Great. He was going to wear this shirt to his date. All plans went to hell over the past few days, and they’re now getting lunch at one o’clock, at a little coffee shop that’s about halfway between the hotel and the college Luna goes to. She’s really busy with school, she’d informed Noct via text message a couple of days earlier, but she’ll absolutely make all the time in the world to see him. Noctis is aware, on a basic level, that a pretty girl wanting to spend time with him is a _very_ good thing, no matter what his rebelling mind seems to be trying to tell him.

 

“I’ve got meetings this morning, but take the day off,” his father says, “I think you deserve it after distracting Mr. Izunia for the entirety of yesterday. I didn’t have to see him at all, it really was a blessing, Noct…”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Noctis grumbles. It’s probably a good thing that his dad’s letting him go free, because he can’t concentrate _at all._ He doesn’t even finish his cereal, which is an absolute travesty to mankind. It’s taken science an awful long time to perfect the cereal recipe, after all.

 

Noctis changes three times. He sends Ignis a nervous text and almost asks for kissing advice (“for girls”) but that’s taking it a step too far. He really wants to text Prompto and ask for kissing advice, but… well. He’s not going to do that. That’s just too weird. And Noctis finds himself thinking about kissing his best friend again. If kissing Luna is anything like kissing Prompto, he’ll absolutely be okay. He knows that much, at least.

 

Somehow, despite all that, Noctis ends up showing up at the coffee shop fifteen minutes late. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair is messy. The door chimes as he opens it, with a little more force than is really necessary, in part thanks to nerves, in part because it’s a particularly windy autumn day, even though it’s still bright and sunny and beautiful out. He scans the coffee shop, and there’s a good part of Noctis that doesn’t think she’ll show up. A girl like Luna, after all, doesn’t need to waste her time with idiot boys who can’t text back on time, and can’t even show up in time for their first meeting in _years._

 

But no, there she is. Noct recognizes her immediately, even after all the years. Her hair is bright, silvery-gold, and she’s got it pulled up in a messy topknot. She’s wearing a white sweater, and a pair of pink, skin-tight jeans. She’s got a book and a cup of coffee in front of her. Noct pauses, and for a moment, he wonders if he should just run away. But Luna looks up – their eyes meet, blue on blue, steel on ocean waves, and she smiles and stands up.

 

And in this moment, Noctis knows he’s in a whole fucking world of trouble.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few things:  
> 1\. thanks for sticking w/ me this long. all the feedback i got last chapter? it was absolutely overwhelming. you all are amazing. <3 even the negative-ish feedback, i really appreciate. this story is the longest thing i've written in YEARS and my pacing might be weird so yeah. thanks. i really appreciate it.  
> 2\. i took artistic liberty as far as tenebrae is concerned. having a half-finished game as source material is confusing. it's a former territory in canon? well in my AU it's just a city. TAKE THAT LORE.  
> 3\. i expected more luna this chapter but troll dad regis totally took over here. oops. next couple of chapters are luna-centric. sorry for cliffhanger ending i try not to do those but SHE NEEDED TO BE IN THERE OK.  
> 4\. i'm on tumblr @ destatree, come talk to me!  
> 


	19. Touch the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I was a kid, I thought we’d grow up and get married someday,” Noctis laughs a little, as if speaking it aloud will… change how he’s feeling right now. As if there’s a chance that the wind sweeping in, carrying in the scent of rain, will rearrange the pieces of his life and they’ll fall into each other’s arms. 
> 
> “Me too,” Luna laughs as well, “but we were so young, Noctis. We had no idea what we wanted back then, did we?”

There’s a long moment, standing in this little café in Tenebrae, where the world stops around Noctis. A moment out of a dream, maybe? A long-standing fantasy, finally coming true? Maybe. Maybe not.

 

“Noctis Caelum,” Luna says brightly, a hand on her hip. The world slowly slips back into place. She’s _gorgeous._ Somehow more beautiful than Noct remembers. The pictures he occasionally stalks on her social media accounts do absolutely nothing for the experience that is Lunafreya, live and in the flesh. Her bangs have fallen from the messy tie she’s got her hair in, and they’re framing her face. Her eyes are shining. Noct’s momentarily paralyzed as he stands there, awkward and shifting his weight around. He’s suddenly hypercritical of himself, very aware of his messy hair and the dark circles underneath his eyes.

 

“Hey, Luna,” Noct manages to say after a moment. He also, somehow, manages to avoid tripping over his own feet as he approaches. Luna’s got her eyes on him, and she tips her head up to get a good look at him. It’s another reminder of just how _goddamn_ long it’s been; the last time they’ve seen each other proper was back in the hospital as kids, the day Noct was released.  He was still partially wheelchair bound by then, but walking with some assistance from Ignis and crutches. Back then, he’d had to look up at Luna. She’s got a few years on him, and she’d been in the midst of a prepubescent growth spurt. Now, even though Noct’s still slim, still on the shorter side, he’s a couple of inches taller.

 

“Look at you, Noct,” Luna smiles, and she lifts a hand to Noct’s cheek. He almost jumps at the contact – it takes him by surprise, and there’s a little shiver of warmth at the feeling of Luna’s hand cupping his face, one that’s intense and confusing and… rousing some sort of comforting, intense affection. “What happened to that boy I used to know?”

 

“Growing up, I think,” Noct laughs a little self-consciously, scratching at the back of his head, mussing up his hair even more. Maybe he is. Maybe not. Only time will tell.

 

“I suppose so,” Luna smiles at him, and Noct’s stomach does a weird flip, though he can’t figure out the reason behind it. “Now. Don’t just stand there, silly! I already ordered my food. You should go order something, I don’t want to be eating all alone!” she gestures at the counter behind her, and Noct notices her nails are painted a silvery sort of colour. They look manicured. It’s a strange detail that stands out for some reason, because she looks so… delicate and feminine. Noctis doesn’t know how he feels about that.

 

“Right,” Noct feels like he should offer to pay for Luna’s meal but she’s already ordered. It leaves him with a vague, awkward confusion about whether this constitutes a date (it is, right?) or what’s expected of him. He feels even weirder just standing there though, so he makes his way to the register and orders a hot chocolate and a sandwich that he’s well aware he is going to pick at instead of eating.

 

When he returns to the table, Luna gestures for him to sit, so he does. Noct can’t take his eyes off her. She’s still smiling brightly. For some reason, it’s her hands that captivate him. Noctis doesn’t have a whole lot of female friends. Well, correction. He just doesn’t have a lot of _friends._ But Iris, Gladio’s little sister, she’s always been ‘one of the guys’ so to speak, the poor girl destined to that role since she’s the kid sister in a tight-knit group of guys. Aranea… Noct supposes he can consider her a friend at this point, too, but even with her stiletto heels and her painted nails, Aranea carries herself in a very different way from Luna. It’s not something Noctis can understand or fully express. It’s just _different._

 

Noct wonders if he wants to curl his fingers around Luna’s. If he wants those hands touching him. The answer should be immediate, but… it isn’t. Fuck. He shifts in his seat and drags his gaze back up to meet Luna’s. She’s watching him with a smile, one that’s shifted into something almost mischievous.

 

“What?” Noct blurts out, “you’re giving me a weird look.” Smooth, Noctis, really good.

 

“Noctis, you never change,” Luna takes a sip of her drink, and leans forward a little, “you invite me here, you haven’t seen me in years, and you’re just sitting there _staring.”_

“I…” Noct’s definitely flushing brightly. He groans at that realization. “Sorry, Luna. You know me. I’m… not good at talking sometimes. It’s been one hell of a month back at home, and now I’m here with my dad….”

 

“Good thing,” Luna reaches out across the table and takes one of Noct’s hands in her own, “that you’ve got an old friend sitting with you, eager to listen.” Her hands are warm. The touch is… soothing, comforting, but there’s none of the fire in his veins that he half-expected. It’s not quite the same as touching Prompto. Luna squeezes his hand, and the look she offers up is conspiratorial.

 

“Talk. I want to know what you’ve been up to!”

 

“Those words are my worst nightmare, y’know?” Noct laughs a little self-consciously, but Luna’s mere presence sets him at ease. It always has. It’s why, even after all these years, they’re still good friends. And being here, seeing her again? It really almost is like no time has passed at all.

 

Noctis tries to give Luna the quick rundown on life. He goes on about college life, about moving in and about meeting Aranea and trying to make time for studying. He talks about the apartment, about the stupid cat they got, maybe even mentions – in passing – those brownies in their freezer that they still haven’t finished eating. Hell, he even mentions his father, exhausted and hardworking, but… this trip, it’s almost shifted their relationship in a way, made Noctis see a slightly new side of him. A side that’s probably always been there, but he and his dad, they’re complicated.

 

“I guess I’m realizing my dad’s getting old,” Noctis says slowly. The food’s arrived and he’s been picking at it as expected, yeah, but he’s actually eating a little more than he anticipated. “And… I don’t know what I want to do. He’s doing these meetings and dealing with people all week, and I couldn’t even handle a day’s worth of it. I… I’m kinda wondering if I want to follow in his footsteps. I don’t think business is my thing, y’know?”

 

“Most of us question what we’re doing when we hit college,” Luna smiles. She’s still holding onto Noct’s hand with one of hers, thumb rubbing little circles over the back. Her other elbow is propped up on the table, and her head’s resting on her chin, but she’s still listening. All this ranting, and Luna just… she listens. She always had. “Those stereotypes about people switching majors or dropping out? They’re statistics, Noctis. It’s easy to dream about doing something, but the reality of it is different…”

 

“But you’ve always known exactly what you want to do,” Noctis pointed out. When they were kids back in that hospital, all those years ago, Luna had decided she wanted to be a doctor. ‘The doctors take care of me’, she’d insisted with wide eyes, ‘I want to help people too. And take care of them.’ And here she was, all those years later, still the same resolve.

 

“Not really,” Luna laughs, “I’m still going to go to medical school but… I think I want to go into psychiatry. Or maybe teaching. I’m better at _talking_ to people than anything.”

 

“I didn’t know that,” Noctis says quietly. Luna has never mentioned that much, has she? When they were emailing back in high school, she’d always talked about being a surgeon, like the kind ones, full of child-appropriate bedside manners, that had formed their childhood. Or there’d been mentions of a family practice, too, with big jars full of lollipops to ease childrens’ fears. None of this other stuff though.

 

“That, Noctis Caelum, is because you don’t _listen,_ ” Luna laughs, “it’s okay though. I forgive you.”

 

“I’m listening right now,” Noct insists, and he’s a little frustrated because… he _does_ listen. Doesn’t he?

 

“Barely,” Luna squeezes his hand again. “The point, Noct, is that… we’re all confused sometimes. I think the problem with being confused is that we try to shut that part of ourselves out.” She settles back, straightens herself up in the chair, and catches Noct’s eye. His stomach does a little flip.

 

“What do our parents tell us? They say we’ll go off to college and become adults,” Luna smiles a strange little smile, one that Noct’s pretty sure he’s mirroring. He goes for a sip of his hot chocolate. “Not to assume I know how you feel, but… I know how I felt. I thought it was all about figuring out what I want to do with the rest of my life. It’s not about what we learn in school though.”

 

“What is it then?” Noct doesn’t know where Luna is going with this. She’s very smart, that’s never been a question. Hell, Luna is smarter than he is. Noctis feels a bit dumb, sitting in this chair, drinking his drink and poking at his sandwich. But Luna’s words, even if he can’t grasp the entire meaning, he thinks _maybe_ he’s following. She sets him at ease, in any case, and that’s a good thing.

 

“Classes can’t tell you what you _want,”_ Luna winks. “They can teach you the skills to chase after what you want. But… this part of our lives? It’s all about learning to listen to our hearts, and disciplining our minds. You’re tricky, Noctis. You always have been. You’re so obsessed with worrying over what your father thinks of you, that you don’t think about what _Noctis_ wants.”

 

“I’m not—“ Noctis tries to protest, but the words are dull, and Luna doesn’t need to cut him off or interrupt, because he does the job himself. He sighs, a little weakly, and Noct’s mind is spinning. Yeah, he’s worrying about what his father thinks. Yeah, he wants to make his dad proud. They haven’t sat down and had an official talk about the whole thing, but Noctis knows the plan. Go to school, get his degree, intern until his dad retires, take over the business, marry a girl, give his father grandkids. Noct knows how hard his dad works, he deserves a comfortable sort of retirement, and Noct needs to give him a family. That’s what he’s always been after right? Family? The idea should appeal to him more, but he’s just _young,_ and the whole thought is overwhelming. And there’s no place for other things, for a certain person, not in a life like that.

 

“Okay, so I’m worried about what my dad thinks,” Noct admits that aloud, and it’s almost like a weight lifts off his heart. Everyone around him knows that, of course. Ignis understands it intrinsically, he’s been around for it all. Gladio shares some of the same struggles, though Noct’s pretty sure his friend has come to terms with it in a way he doesn’t think he ever will. And _Prompto,_ oh hell, Noct’s stomach does a real flip there, Prompto’s been all but begging Noct to open up this way with him, too. Admitting it to Luna though, it feels different.

 

“You worry so much about your father that you’re pointedly ignoring Noct’s wants, his needs, aren’t you?” Luna’s voice is serene, even as she hones in on the issue precisely, surgically.

 

Noctis shifts in his chair. “I… don’t really know what I want,” he admits, with a nervous laugh. Has he said that out loud yet, in this particular context? The one related to life and Prompto and everything? If he has, it somehow feels more honest, more sincere, like something in him is rubbed raw and deep and to the core, and it _hurts._ He takes another sip of his drink to distract, to diffuse the situation. Noct doesn’t think he could lie to Luna, not even if he wanted to.

 

“I think you know,” Luna says, in that gentle voice of hers, but she has that terrifying way of saying so much with barely any words at all. “Refusing to talk about it doesn’t make the problems go away, Noctis. You can’t avoid it forever.”

 

Noctis knows she’s right. He’s known for a while now, hasn’t he? Ignis tried to tell him as much before they left, in his own way. Noct doesn’t wanna face it, but here’s Luna, and she’s not about to let him get away with it. She never has. There was a time, ages back, when Noct was terrified about becoming friends with the blonde kid who introduced himself on the first day of high school. He’d told Luna frantically, over the phone, that ‘having friends isn’t worth it’ and she’d come right back with ‘Noctis Caelum, you stop worrying and talk to that damn boy.’

 

Funny, how things are kinda full-circle now, because… well, here he is again, terrified to get close.

 

“Fine,” Noctis sighs. He pushes his sandwich away. He’s eaten as much of it as he’s going to, the tomato and lettuce pulled to the side of the plate, the bread picked apart and half-eaten. “No secrets between us, Luna.”

 

“Good,” Luna catches Noct’s eye, and she gives him a long, heavy gaze, as if she’s assessing the situation, judging him. Whatever she sees there, she seems satisfied, because she nods, and smiles, and pushes her own plate aside. “Since I have you for the afternoon, shall I show you around Tenebrae?”

 

Noctis is relieved that she’s letting the subject drop – and alarmed, because she’s letting the subject drop. He hasn’t really thought, either, about what comes after the whole ‘getting coffee together’ thing. Should he hold her hand? Suggest that they go somewhere? Are they going for a romantic walk?

 

His stomach flips again. He shouldn’t have eaten anything, it’s made things worse.

 

“Sure,” Noctis agrees, and Luna reaches for his hand and twines their fingers together, and all Noct can think about, for just a moment, is that he wishes Prompto was here with them. Fuck.

 

\---

 

Tenebrae is a beautiful city though, just as Luna’s the most beautiful woman Noct has ever met. Noctis doesn’t quite understand how someone like Luna even _exists,_ honestly. Maybe it’s because she’s been through so much in her short life. Noct’s injuries, they changed something in him, yeah. Maybe it hurt him deeper, wounded his relationship with his dad in a way that he’s only beginning to realize. Luna though – she’s taken something terrible, a trauma and a fear, and she’s turned it into something beautiful. She views the world unapologetically, and Noct’s a little overwhelmed by how she manages to point out little things that he probably would never have noticed. Little subtleties in architecture, or the shapes of clouds, or stray cats running down alleyways.

 

Luna’s hand feels nice and warm in Noct’s, once he gets used to it. There’s a comforting touch to it. She’s surprisingly engaging. Noct’s never been the most talkative person, but when Luna talks, he answers, and it’s surprisingly easy. It’s like how talking to Prompto is easy. Or… well, it used to be easy. That thought makes Noctis frown, because it’s gotten harder to talk to his best friend recently, and… that’s another thing he doesn’t understand.

 

“Where are we going?” Noctis asks Luna as they walk down the sidewalk, past a number of storefronts, mostly fancy-looking ones selling designer clothing or expensive, pretentious artwork. Noct gazes as they walk by, but nothing really catches his interest.

 

“No idea,” Luna says airily, “isn’t the beauty in the journey?”

 

“I guess so,” Noctis isn’t so sure about that, but the weather is nice, and his heart feels lighter when he’s with Luna, so he keeps letting her lead the way. She takes them off the main sidewalk, across a busy street, and down into a nearby park. There’s a farmer’s market set up, and it’s a lot different from the ones in Insomnia. Living in a college area, little ones pop up near his apartment from time to time, but this one’s larger, more exotic, less ‘college kids trying to make a few extra bucks’ and more ‘actual talent.’

 

“I just thought we should do this,” Luna gives Noct’s hand a squeeze, “do you remember being stuck in the hospital when we were kids? All we wanted to do was get out for a little while.”

 

“Yeah,” Noct smiles, because he remembers it well. He remembers what it was like, waking up in another place, one that he’s never been to before. All he had to go on was the view out the window, because his legs weren’t working right, he had a concussion, and they were running all those tests, making sure he didn’t have brain damage or that there was something permanently wrong with his nerves and spine. He’d been scared of all the tests, and his dad stayed as much as he could, but… well. Noct’s dad was his dad, and eventually work beckoned, and then it had just been him and Luna.

 

“You used to promise me a tour of the city. That you’d take me to all your favourite places.”

 

“I did,” Luna agrees, brightly, “see, you remembered, Noctis. So come on. Trust me.”

 

He does trust her, Noctis decides. Luna stops at a little fruit booth somewhere along the way, and she lets Noct pay for the little bag of fancy looking berries she purchases. She offers him one, but Noctis eyes them skeptically and declines since it’s fruit, and fruit is a close relative of vegetables.

 

“Your loss,” Luna laughs. Noct does carry the little bag for her though, and they slowly amble their way through the park. The weather in Tenebrae must be finicky, Noct notices, because it’s gone from being a clear, perfect day, to cloudy, the hint of a storm in the air, in what seems like only minutes. Luna perks up though, tugging Noct down over a grassy green slope and onto a little footpath that leads down to a lake in the middle of the park. Noctis immediately likes this spot, too. It’s relatively secluded, even more so because the air’s growing thicker with moisture by the minute, dark clouds rolling in heavy and thick.

 

They settle down on a bench by the waterfront, and Luna tosses some berries out to a little cluster of ducks lazing in the high tufts of weeds along the embankment. Noct watches them with a smile. He’s always liked animals. The ducks quack their appreciation, eagerly gulping down the food with their beaks, getting brave and wandering closer to where they’re sitting in search of more.

 

“I’m glad we finally got our little adventure,” Luna leans her head on Noct’s shoulder. Noctis tenses a little. He doesn’t know what he should do. It doesn’t feel quite right. He doesn’t know, Noct realizes, what Luna’s intentions are here. And Noctis doesn’t know what’s right. He loves Luna, and she’s so beautiful, but…

 

“I’m glad too, Luna,” Noct mumbles, awkwardly shifting to curl an arm around her waist. Luna’s so tiny, and she’s soft, with curves and flesh in places he’s not quite used to. Her heat is a lot like Prompto’s though, and if Noctis closes his eyes, he realizes his best friend is what he’s thinking of right now.

 

Should he kiss Luna? It’s going to start raining soon, and Noct realizes he’s going to miss his opportunity. It can’t be that different from what he’s been doing with his best friend.

 

Does he want to, though?

 

“Don’t think you’re getting off the hook though, Noctis Caelum,” Luna lifts her head, and she gives Noct’s shoulder a playful little nudge. The moment is broken, and that’s probably a good thing, probably the only thing that keeps Noct from making a huge, embarrassing mess of himself. “I’ve gotten some information out of you. You haven’t said a _word_ about Prompto though. Holding back on me?”

 

Noctis tenses, and he’s pretty sure he makes a quiet, pitiful sound, one he can’t quite mask.

 

“What about Prompto? We’re roommates, but he’s been… busy lately. Haven’t seen a lot of him.” It’s mostly a lie, of course.

 

“Is that so?” Luna pulls back, and Noct’s pretty sure the _look_ she’s giving him is accusatory, disapproving. Hell, it’s a little bit scary. Noctis hasn’t really considered Luna to be scary before, but suddenly he is reminded very much of the unimpressed, no-nonsense looks that Aranea gives him when she’s trying to intimidate him into doing something. Fucking women – why does Noct know such fierce, strong women?

 

“Yeah, that’s so.” Noctis looks down at the ground. He wishes it would start raining so he has a reason to escape this conversation. He’s making it weird again, isn’t he? All he has to do is play it off like it’s nothing – that’s been easy so far, hasn’t it? Why should Luna, of all people, be drawing answers out of Noct that he doesn’t really want to face?

 

“You’re lying to me,” Luna says, and the world drops out from under Noct’s feet. Again. She’s smiling, and her words are casual, but her eyes are burning into him. “You are a terrible liar. Besides, I follow Prompto online you know. I see all the pictures he posts of you two. Not _all_ of us live in the last century.”

 

Noctis groans, and not just because Luna’s making digs at his reluctance to act like his peers with the whole social media thing. He knows that Prompto takes a lot of selfies of them. And he knows that way more of them than he’d like end up online. He hadn’t stalked all of Prompto’s accounts after their little sort-of-falling-out. Not at all. Okay, maybe a little. And yeah, maybe some of the photos made them look… well, involved. Maybe there were some photos of Noct asleep with his head in Prompto’s lap. Or the two of them curled up together, all awkward smiles. Pictures of breakfast that Prompto made with the hashtag ‘#domesticlife’ and cheerfully captioned ‘breakfast with bae.’ Oh, fuck. Fuck. This is bad, isn’t it?

 

“He’s my best friend, Luna,” Noctis tries again, and he’s a little more honest this time, because she’s seen through him, hasn’t she? “We’re… I guess fighting right now. But I don’t know what I want to do about it. I dunno what I want.”

 

“Fighting?” Luna frowns. She chew on her lip, and Noct’s surprised – it seems like a nervous tick, a bad habit. Noctis didn’t know Luna was capable of bad habits. She always seems so perfect, so well put together. “What’d you do?”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” and that’s more of a confession than a stubborn insistence. This is what this is about, isn’t it? Prompto’s given him… well, a lot of opportunities to talk about _this._ And what has Noctis give him in return? Desperate words that no matter what, they’re still best friends? He sighs, and he draws away from Luna, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes straight ahead. The ducks are still ambling at the water’s edge, a whole group of them. It’s fall, and the seasons are milder here, and some of the ducks are adolescent, the last of their baby fluff still clinging amidst the adult feathers. Noct wonders if ducks have it this hard. It’s all biological for the ducks, isn’t it? Find a mate and lay some eggs and raise some ducklings. He wonders if there’s the occasional odd duck who wants something different, or if they even have the self-awareness to realize it. Probably not.

 

“Should you have done something?” Luna cuts through the silence, and again, she seems to figure out exactly what Noctis is thinking. She’s honing in on the question that needs to be asked.

 

“I think so,” Noctis replies slowly. It’s all hypothetical, of course. They’re living in a world where they’re talking in vague terms. He has no idea how Luna is so perceptive. Did Prompto talk to her? No… Noct doesn’t think so. He’s confused by what’s going on, but he has a feeling Prompto is leaving him to figure all this out on his own. That’s a guilty little nagging thought. Noct doesn’t think he deserves that.

 

“Sounds like you need to get your act together, Noctis.”

 

Noctis can’t bring himself to look at Luna. He doesn’t wanna look at anything right now. He stares down at the ground, pretends to find some deep, great meaning in the grass, or the dirt of the path that’s carved through.

 

“Probably,” Noctis can agree to that much, even though he still hasn’t figured out exactly what that entails. He thinks that maybe just talking about it is a good start though. This is more than he’s been able to say before, isn’t it?

 

It’s still not enough.

 

“Honestly,” Luna continues, and she leans forward as well, gives Noct’s shoulder a little nudge with her own, “I was surprised that you didn’t bring Prompto along with you. He’d _love_ Tenebrae. Lots of photo opportunity.”

 

Noctis blinks. He hadn’t even _thought_ about inviting Prompto. Should he have? He wonders what his dad would say. His father’s been asking about Prompto too, after all. It seems weird, to bridge that connection. Sure, his dad has met Prompto multiple times. Prompto half-lived at their place before Noct moved out, and most of his dad’s time was spent at the office, yeah, but he’s always gotten along with Noct’s best friend. And when they moved in together, his father was more than willing to offer to cover the whole cost of the apartment, not just Noct’s share. Maybe… that’s a form of what? _Approval?_ The concept is there in Noct’s mind, but there’s a disconnect. He can’t quite get there, he’s grasping for it, but…

 

“This trip is kind of a _thing._ You know? With me and my dad,” Noct sighs. He thinks, maybe, he knows what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

 

Being here, in Tenebrae, it’s been a strange little perfect fantasy in Noct’s mind for so long. He can remember being in the hospital, and being with Luna, and she was the center of his little world back then. His dad was trying really hard to be there through Noct’s recovery, but a company doesn’t run itself. It doesn’t now, and it certainly didn’t back then. A lot of the time it was just Noctis and Luna, and the little window in their hospital room that they’d sit next to, when they were allowed up out of bed, Noct with his crutches, Luna with tubes and IV and wires in places there shouldn't be.. He still remembers the view, of rolling mountains in the distance. It rains a lot in Tenebrae, and the clouds would collect around the base of the mountains off the distance, like some mythical place right out of an ancient legend.

 

In Noct’s mind, coming here again, being next to Luna? It would be like coming home. It would be the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. He’d look at Luna, and life would make sense, and there’d be a sense of purpose.

 

Instead, Noctis tips his head. He gazes at the woman next to him – because she’s a fucking _woman_ now. Luna’s still so familiar, but she’s beautiful. She looks wise though, put together, where Noctis is a total fucking mess. He should want to kiss her. There’s been so many opportunities to do that. But instead… Noctis realizes, he wishes he’d invited Prompto here. The three of them, they’d have fun. Prompto would love Luna – the two of them are kindred spirits, with that same carefree smile and gentle gaze.

 

“I guess,” Noctis says slowly, “that I thought this trip would… fix things. My problems.” He leans back again. Leaning forward in the bench hurts his back, flares up all those old wounds in a way that’s almost mocking, because he’s here, where all the memories are swirling up around him. It’s a combination of bad posture and the moisture in the air, of course. It helps, feeling the solid support of the little park bench against him. And Noctis gazes out in the distance, at the same mountains that the sprawling city overlooks. There are buildings off in the distance, at the park’s edge, the city continuing on around them, but the mountains haven’t changed. It’s a bit like being a kid again, with Luna, but Noctis thinks back on everything he’s said, every thought he’s clung to over the years.

 

“When I was a kid, I thought we’d grow up and get married someday,” Noctis laughs a little, as if speaking it aloud will… change how he’s feeling right now. As if there’s a chance that the wind sweeping in, carrying in the scent of rain, will rearrange the pieces of his life and they’ll fall into each other’s arms.

 

“Me too,” Luna laughs as well, “but we were so young, Noctis. We had no idea what we wanted back then, did we?”

 

“We wanted to get better,” Noct points out. It starts to rain, the first drops falling gentle on his forehead, and he shivers, but he doesn’t make any attempt to get up. Noct hates the cold, but those first drops are warmer than expected, and Luna hasn’t made any effort to move, either.

 

“We did,” Luna agrees. Her hand finds Noct’s leg, and she gives a squeeze. It’s gentle, and it’s all affection – it’s nothing like being touched by Prompto this way. “And we got better. We just didn’t know what comes next.”

 

“Have you figured it out yet?” Noct surprises himself with the question. Luna just looks like she’s got it all put together. Like she’s figured out the great secrets of life. And maybe Noct wants reassurance that he’s not here alone, struggling. Or maybe he wants her to offer up some sage advice, the secrets of the universe. Whatever it is, he’s watching Luna.

 

Her eyes widen for a moment, intense bright blue, so beautiful, and Luna smiles thoughtfully. She doesn’t answer at first. She looks at Noctis, then down at her lap, and then out across the water. The raindrops are falling a little more steadily now, and Noctis follows her gaze, watches as they fall across the surface of the lake and leave little ripples in their wake.

 

“Noctis, I’m older than you. I’ve had… a few more years to figure it out,” Luna says slowly, “and you’ve always had the emotional capacity of a rock – no offense, dear, it’s the truth. But… I’ve had my share of fuck ups, you know? I didn’t just magically have it all come together.”

 

Noctis finds that hard to believe. He almost protests the little tease, but… well, Luna’s probably pushing some truth there. He’s still struggling, mind working in overdrive to try and process all of this, and all Noctis can really come up with is that things are _different,_ that this isn’t a magical fix to all his problems, but he still can’t quite piece together what the solution is. And he really should realize that there _is_ no magical solution, only hard work and sincere effort and the hope that he can patch it together, but… well. Noct isn’t smart. He’s dumb, and Luna only complements his dumbness.

 

“Well you’re doing a good job of fooling me,” Noct shrugs. “You’re way smarter than I could ever be.”

 

“You’re willfully ignorant. There’s a difference. You can fix that, you know,” Luna draws away a little, leaning to the side to catch Noct’s gaze. He doesn’t really know if he wants to look at her, but he does, and he feels a flush rising in his cheeks. She shouldn’t have so much faith in him. Noctis doesn’t think he’s worthy of anyone’s trust or faith. After all, his dad had pushed him to go out on this date with Luna, right? And what’s he doing? Laying all of his problems on her, admitting in vague terms that this isn’t going anywhere. The fairytale romance Noctis has dreamed of isn’t a thing.

 

Does he even know Luna, Noctis wonders? She’s talking about struggling and finding herself, and things not coming naturally, but over the years, has she mentioned that in their emails? Noctis has always confided in Luna and he wonders exactly who she’s been confiding in all along? Or maybe he’s just been too caught up in getting to this place, this finish line that apparently doesn’t exist, to realize that she’s been struggling too.

 

Noctis feels like a piece of trash.

 

“How do I fix it?” he asks slowly. He doesn’t think Luna has the answer. He _knows_ Luna doesn’t have the answer. But he has to ask anyway, because Noctis still is living in a world where something can magically solve all his problems. He’s shifting, and he has half a foot into the real world, but it’s terrifying. It’s dark and broken, and he doesn’t want to be there alone. It’s so much easier here, in Tenebrae, where it’s the two of them, finally feeling the rain on their face, gazing out at those same mountains, the only thing that hasn’t changed in the past ten years.

 

“Well,” Luna says slowly, thoughtfully, though with a hint of amusement in her voice, “that’s on you. For one, I’d make sure you bring home one hell of a birthday gift for Prompto.”

 

“Birthday gift?” Noct frowns. What? Then he realizes what day it is. What he's been missing all along, hiding in plain sight. And then he _realizes._ “Oh. Luna. _Fuck.”_

 

What’s with this day getting worse? Because Noctis figures out, yet again, how completely screwed he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> luna took over. oops. i love her. i would've finished this chapter earlier but noct was giving me hell with his obliviousness and then i ended up writing prompto/luna smut instead because goodness they'd work well together. (not in the context of ludic though lmao) 
> 
> also my quiet headcanon in all this is that she has a rebel boyfriend named nyx and he's kinda a bad-boy and she's struggling with that, and maybe if noct was a better friend he'd know that ;) but this story isn't about luna.
> 
> i've been half-writing a companion story with little snippets from other people's POVs to go along with this as i've mentioned in comments and on my tumblr here and there, but will i ever post it? who knows. maybe lol. 
> 
> as always ilu all forever with your comments and asks on tumblr. you guys seriously are the best, my non-existent self-esteem appreciates every word of encouragement i get. <3


	20. Inner Demons Just Don't Go Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna’s set him on a path that he doesn’t think he can escape. In his mind, it’s a long, narrow ,winding footpath, along the side of a cliff and down through the ravines, and there’s no way to go except forward. There’s no room, no place, to turn back. It’s only one step ahead of the other.

The first year they met, Prompto hadn’t even mentioned it was his birthday. Noctis finds out utterly by mistake. He’s at Prompto’s place. His parents are on some business trip (they’re always on a business trip), and Noct’s dad is working from home on some big project so Noct doesn’t wanna bother him. They’re in Prompto’s kitchen, raiding the fridge, and Noct catches glimpse of a little card, ‘happy birthday’ written on it in flourished gold lettering, on top of the pile of opened mail on the kitchen counter.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, pausing, reaching out and picking the card up, “what’s this?”

 

Prompto makes a soft noise and reaches for the card and pulls it back out of Noct’s fingers. “Dude. That’s _private._ ” He’s flushing deeply and looks horribly embarrassed and Noct feels a wave of shame rushing over him, like he’s stumbled across something Prompto wanted to keep hidden.

 

“Sorry,” Noctis says lamely. It’s a dick move, snooping on someone else’s mail. But. Noct gestures at the card that Prompto’s pulled to his chest. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?” Of course, Noct’s being a hypocrite here. He hates his own birthday. But, luckily, Noct’s birthday was the week before they started school, and he and Prompto weren’t entirely good friends yet, at that point. That’s only been a very recent development. One that has built up _fast_ and is something good, but, it’s besides the point. The point is that Noctis knows that he’s weird for hating his own birthday, and that someone like Prompto absolutely isn’t the type to ignore birthdays.

 

Prompto shrugs, “it’s never been a big deal here. My parents are usually away.”

 

“But they sent you the card,” Noct gestures again.

 

“This isn’t from my parents,” Prompto flushes again, even darker somehow, and looks down. “It’s from my Uncle Cor. He’s… kinda the only one who really remembers. When I was younger, he used to come by on my birthday and take me out, but he’s super busy with work this year…”

 

Noctis frowns. He’s got one hand clenched into a fist, fingers flexing. This is… something Noctis isn’t entirely familiar with, because his own dad is distant sometimes, always distracted by work, by duty, by something that isn’t Noctis. But his dad still makes an effort on his birthday, and even though Noctis likes to pretend it’s just any other regular old day, his dad will always order them Noct’s favourite takeout, and always makes the time for them to eat dinner together. There’s always a thoughtfully purchased gift waiting for him, and a quiet ‘I love you, son,’ which Noctis groans about now that he’s old enough to realize that his dad is very uncool.

 

“Let’s order pizza,” Noctis says finally, “and I’ll let you pick the toppings.”  It’s a bigger sacrifice than the seemingly innocent words suggest, and they both know it.

 

“I want barbeque chicken,” Prompto says instantly, “with hot peppers and pineapple.”

 

“You’re a disgusting freak of nature,” Noctis grumbles, because even worse than peppers on pizza is _pineapple._ But he concedes that he will be picking off the majority of the toppings and dealing with it. “Can we at least get bacon, too?”

 

“You’re a genius, Noct,” Prompto agrees dreamily, and the decision is made.

 

They settle down in Prompto’s living room and watch a movie. The pizza arrives, and Noct indeed picks off all the gross peppers and pineapples and Prompto eagerly eats them from the side of his plate. It’s kinda gross. But they bump shoulders, and then Noctis eventually ends up staying the night. He curls up on a sleeping bag on Prompto’s floor, and he pretends to be asleep when Prompto mumbles a “hey Noct? Thanks,” late at night after they’ve settled in.

 

The following year, Noctis remembers the day, and he gets Gladio and Ignis in on it. His dad gives his blessing, and they decorate the living room with big, animal-shaped helium balloons. Ignis bakes a cake, and Noct’s dad even gets in the spirit, paying for catering from a nearby restaurant they like. He invites Prompto over, low-key and casual about it, and Noctis absolutely isn’t the type to do the whole hiding and turning the lights off and screaming “surprise!” thing, but he’s still hiding back a smile when he leads Prompto into the house and his best friend sees the food laid out, the decorations, the small stack of gifts they’ve all pitched in to get him.

 

“Happy birthday,” Noctis says, very sincerely. He gets Prompto a limited edition, autographed copy of a new art anthology released by one of their favourite comic book artists. Okay, so maybe his dad’s influence was involved a little bit here, too.

 

“You guys are seriously the best,” Prompto’s blushing bright but he’s all grins, running a hand through his hair and offering up hugs to all of his friends. Hell, Noct’s dad gets a hug too, when he comes back from work later that night and finds them all in the living room, playing video games, Ignis somehow beating them all horrendously even though Noct doesn’t think he’s ever touched this particular game in his life.

 

Noctis doesn’t like birthdays, but for Prompto, they’re kind of a big deal. Noctis doesn’t know just how deep that appreciation runs, but he knows it exists. He’s not _that_ dumb.

 

\---  


“Noctis,” Luna says quietly, after a long moment of silence, one where Noct’s heart races in his chest and he desperately tries to fight off the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Please tell me you didn’t forget about that poor boy’s birthday.”

 

Noctis isn't in the past right now. He's not back at Prompto's fifteenth birthday, or any of the other ones. It's this particular one, and Noct's in Tenebrae, very far away. He has, of course, completely forgotten this fact until this very moment. Noctis doesn’t know how the hell he’s been so stupid. October 25th. Of course.

 

It starts to rain heavier now, water splashing in big, ugly raindrops on Noct’s head, wetting his hair and blurring his vision. They should probably get up and leave, go find somewhere inside to sit and keep talking, but Noct’s body feels like a rock. He doesn’t want to move, but at the same time, he wants to run far, far away, from Luna and the look she’s giving him, from the guilt of realizing that this is the first year he’s missing Prompto’s birthday. That hell, he didn’t hold him a party beforehand. He doesn’t even have a gift for him. Noctis is an idiot. He’s truly, completely, a thoughtless idiot.

 

“I fucked up, Luna,” Noctis sighs. “I think I ruined everything.”

 

“As much as I’d love to sit here in the rain and agree with you,” Luna’s smile fades, and the look she’s giving one is maybe a bit sympathetic, but hard around the edges, “I’m starting to catch a chill, I think.” She shivers, and Noctis feels another fresh wave of guilt roiling in his belly, because he’s been sitting here unloading on Luna. What is she feeling in all of this? He has no idea.

 

“… I’m sorry, Luna, fuck,” Noctis forces his body into motion. The rain has brought a chill to the air, and he shivers as he stands, the rain beating down on him. He offers Luna a hand, and she takes it. “You probably don’t want anything to do with me, huh? It’s okay. You can go, I’ll… figure it out.”

 

“Noctis,” Luna accepts his hand, and she gives it a squeeze as Noct hoists her up off the bench, “someone needs to be tough with you. Everyone in your life loves you, but they’re letting you fumble along and try to figure it out. If I don’t set you straight, you really _will_ mess it all up.”

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Noct grumbles. Even though she’s right. He knows she is. Ignis and his half-assed lecturing, after all, has done nothing but confuse Noctis even more. He thinks that Gladio would give him a rough talking to if he figures out all this shit is going on, but… that’s a terrifying thought. Gladio’s always been tough love, and as they’ve gotten older, he’s taken on the older brother role, but Noctis doesn’t think he can handle Gladio’s particular lecturing right now. And there’s nobody else Noct can talk to. He certainly can’t go to Aranea – she’s even more terrifying – and worst of all, his dad? No. It’s just Luna.

 

“Believe it or not, I do have confidence in you. If I thought you were _completely_ hopeless, I would have given up. I’m patient, but I’m no saint,” Luna takes the lead, and she pulls Noctis down along the path next to the river. The rain is getting harder, and the park is completely empty, all the other patrons having left at those first signs of rain some minutes earlier. Noct’s pretty sure they look like idiots, like total, drenched idiots. And, well, the look is fitting for him, because that’s exactly what he is.

 

The ducks, at least, are enjoying the rain. They’re fluffing up their feathers and chasing each other around on the waterfront. Noctis eyes them for a moment, and then they’re making their way back up the path, out of the park and onto the sidewalk again. All the while, Noctis is silent. He’s trying to think about how he can fix this. What can he do? Missing Prompto’s birthday, if the circumstances were different, would be acceptable. His best friend would understand. But given everything else that’s going on, the sort of fight that they’re currently in, the whole messing around thing… Noctis makes a pathetic sound in his chest and he clenches tightly at Luna’s hand. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do.

 

The rain is getting heavier, and Luna pulls Noct into the first store that they see. It’s a cute little boutique, and she makes a point of dragging Noctis over to admire the handbags they have on display. Some of them are very… Luna, with cute little designs. There’s one with a little water dragon – a hydra? He remembers Luna’s very into weird ancient mythology – that she’s eyeing, or at least pretending to eye. How much of it is legitimate, and how much is Luna just trying to avoid getting them kicked out as they drip water all over the place, is questionable.

 

“So,” Luna keeps her voice low. The store clerk is eyeing them, “did you two break up? Is that what this is about?”

 

Noctis doesn’t want to talk about this. But he has to. Luna’s giving him the no-nonsense look, and so he sets his jaw and grumbles out, “I wasn’t aware that we were even dating.” Somehow, saying the words aloud, they make it seem… more real. Like this is really something that is happening in Noct’s life. He wants to melt into the puddle he’s dripping onto the floor.

 

“Oh. Noctis,” Luna’s voice is somewhere between awe and sympathy and maybe even a little bit of humour, “That boy is crazy about you. How did you not _know?”_

 

Noctis grits his teeth. His jaw is going to ache by the end of this conversation. And of course, now that it’s being held right in front of him, it’s all obvious. He’s been so busy with his own shit, his own feelings, that he’s had no idea. Or maybe he has known, and it’s just… easier not to face that. Even now, Noctis still doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks he does, but… “It was just kind of a… casual thing, you know? It wasn’t supposed to be about _feelings.”_

 

Luna’s hands tremble and she quickly places down the handbag she’s been admiring. She spins around, and her eyes catch Noct’s, her hand reaching out to grip his arm. “You’re sleeping together?”

 

 “ _Luna! Shh!”_ Noct’s eyes widen and he glances around nervously. The bad weather has chased away the shoppers, and it’s just them and the clerk behind the counter. Noctis hopes, desperately, that the woman hasn’t heard them, even though he’ll never see this woman again. It’s not something he wants to discuss in public. Noct’s voice lowers to a whisper, and he talks, because now he knows that Luna won’t give up until he does. “Only a bit. It’s not a big _deal.”_

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Luna doesn’t get angry. She doesn’t snap, and she has infinite levels of patience. It seems though, that Noctis is pushing her buttons. It seems she has a limit to how much of Noct’s bullshit she can take, and she’s pretty close to the breaking point. Luna’s voice is harsher than usual, and there’s a bit of colour to her cheeks. She pulls her hand away, and crosses her arms across her chest. “Noctis. You are an idiot. You need to march your ass home and apologize to that poor boy before you completely ruin your friendship. Unless that’s what you _want,_ since you’re trying pretty hard to do just that.”

 

Is that what he’s been doing? Maybe, just maybe, Noctis thinks he’s been purposely pushing Prompto away so that he doesn’t have to make a decision. So that he doesn’t have to make a choice. He’s having one of those epiphanies again, where he’s realizing that everyone around him has feelings, a life, their own shit going on, and he’s just… never bothered to think about it that way.

 

What Luna says, though… it makes sense. She probably doesn’t intend for Noctis to take it literally, but…

 

“I should go home,” he says, quietly. He wonders what his dad will say. Fuck, Noctis doesn’t want to have this conversation with his dad. But the more Noctis thinks about it, the more he’s thinking that he shouldn’t be here. This isn’t his place. Tenebrae is gorgeous, and he does want to see the city but… not like this. It’s just all wrong.

 

“You can’t run away from your problems,” Luna says, “if you go back home, you have to be ready to face things.” She’s turned back to the display, and Luna hesitates for a moment, before selecting that one bag she’d had her eye on earlier. It’s pretty cute, little chibi-style serpentine water dragons and tridents covering the bag in a checkered pattern. Luna looks at the price and quickly put the bag back down.

 

Noctis sighs, and he reaches for it. He doesn’t even bother to look at the price as he marches over to the counter and puts it down. The clerk, a girl about his age, eyes Noctis skeptically, with his wet hair falling in his eyes and his clothes all dripping messily, but she makes no comment. Noct passes over the credit card his dad pays for. He likes Luna, after all, so he won’t object that Noct’s spending money on her.

 

The rain has mostly stopped, and they make their way out of the shop, Luna carrying the bag, carefully wrapped up in paper and stashed in a plastic shopping bag, in case the rain picks up again. “I’m sorry for losing my temper back there,” she says slowly. They’re picking their way along the sidewalk, heading back to the hotel Noct’s staying at. “Don’t get me wrong, Noctis, you _deserve_ it, but… sorry.”

 

Noctis sighs. He’s soaking wet and he’s exhausted and he needs to get the hell out of here. What can he do, though? Either he’s going to miss Prompto’s day and his best friend hates him, or his dad will be disappointed in him for leaving, and then he’ll hate him… and Noct doesn’t know which is worse.

 

“It’s fine, Luna. You’re right, I do deserve it,” Noctis just wants to fade away into the crowd. He doesn’t want to face reality. But he can’t look at anyone either, like they’ll know he’s watching, and they’ll see into his soul, realize what a fucking mess he is. Noct feels like he’s a giant imposter. Everyone in his life keeps giving him chances, and he’s paying it all back by being a complete and utter fuckup.

 

“Now,” Luna says quietly, as they stop in front of the hotel Noct’s staying at, “you just have to get out of your head, Noctis Caelum. Being trapped in there doesn’t help anyone.”

 

“I think I’m even more confused than I was before, Luna,” Noctis admits with a laugh and a hand running through his hair. He feels self-conscious at the thought of wandering back into the fancy lobby of the hotel with dripping hair and muddy shoes and rain everywhere. Maybe he can take the back stairs.

 

“No you aren’t,” Luna smiles knowingly, “now you’re just scared. You know what you want to do, Noct. Tell Prompto I said happy birthday, okay? And thank you for the bag, it’s adorable.”

 

She leans forward, and brushes her lips affectionately over Noct’s cheek. There’s a moment, just a split second, where Noctis thinks that he could tip his head and kiss her properly – but it’s little more than a sad, hypothetical thought, because he doesn’t want to kiss her. And Noctis knows Luna doesn’t want to kiss him, either. He loves her – fiercely, deeply, and undoubtedly, but… not in the way he’d been clinging to so desperately before coming here.

 

“You’re a good friend, Luna,” Noctis says instead as she lifts her hand from his arm and turns to step back out into the street. Maybe he should ask her if she wants to come back up to his hotel room and wait out the last of the rain, but Luna looks like she’s got somewhere to be, and Noctis just… he needs to figure things out. Luna’s set him on a path that he doesn’t think he can escape. In his mind, it’s a long, narrow ,winding footpath, along the side of a cliff and down through the ravines, and there’s no way to go except forward. There’s no room, no place, to turn back. It’s only one step ahead of the other.

 

So Noctis says fuck it, and he ignores the dirty looks the hotel staff gives him as he marches through the lobby, wet and dripping and looking entirely like the idiot he is. He climbs into the shower when he gets back up to his room, and he turns it up as hot as it will go and melts under the thick steam that fills the room. When he finishes his shower, Noctis decides he’s going to just… sit and watch TV and figure out his options. Instead, of doing any of that though, he’s restless, and he’s got his suitcase packed back up before he even realizes exactly what he’s doing.

 

Noctis checks his phone. His dad’s texted, asking him if he wants to go out for dinner or if he wants takeout. Noct ignores the message for the moment. He looks up flight times. The time change coming back is in his favour, but last-minute flights are a pain in the ass. There’s a few red eyes that are sold out. A 6 AM that’s only got one seat left and flies into the smaller, regional airport that’s on the other side of town. There’s one flight though, one that’s a bit later, that will get him back to Insomnia in time. There’s still a couple of seats available in coach. It’ll be tight, but… it’s doable, Noctis decides.

 

Noctis deletes and retypes a message to his dad at least ten times. He finally comes up with ‘what time r u done? can we talk? nothing serious just wanna run something by u’ and that seems… okay. Noct’s stomach does a flip. He hits send and he sticks his phone quickly under his pillow and he ignores the buzz of his father replying.

 

He tries to turn the television on, but Noct can’t focus. He turns the lights off and lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and tries to nap. That doesn’t work either.

 

The phone buzzes again. Then a third time. Noct finally sucks it up, musters his courage, and checks his phone. Three texts from his father. ‘we can talk, I’ll finish up early’ is the first response – sent immediately after Noct’s initial one. A little burst of guilt. He’s letting his dad down. The second text ‘takeout okay? Noodles?’ and then the third, ‘Noctis???’ with some worried-looking emojis that are absolutely not appropriate for a grown father, professional businessman and CEO, to be using in any circumstances. Noct grumbles and wonders who the hell taught his father how to use the emoji keyboard.

 

‘whatever is fine, dad, im in my room,’ Noctis texts back. He climbs off the bed, and he quickly stuffs his fully packed suitcase in the closet. He doesn’t want his father to see. He makes sure he looks slightly presentable. His hair’s still wet and the humidity is hanging in the air from the rain. It’s making the spikes at the back of his neck curl upward. And hell, Noct looks like he’s been crying. He _hasn’t_ been crying, but he’s definitely been moping, his eyes red and his cheeks puffy. He’s a mess.

 

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. Noct’s stomach does a flip. He can still back out and pretend like nothing’s wrong.

 

He opens the door, and lets his dad in. His father looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, a big plastic bag with ‘thank you’ written on it in red block letters in his hand. Noct realizes just how hungry he is, eyeing that bag. It’s been hours since he and Luna had lunch, and he’d barely touched his food.

 

“Get caught in the rain?” his father asks, stepping into the room.

 

“Yeah,” Noct smiles a little sheepishly. The food smells so goddamn good, and his stomach leaps.

 

“Thought there might be three of us at dinner,” his father adds thoughtfully, and the look he offers Noctis is _far_ from innocent, searching and long and with the hint of a smile.

 

Noctis flushes, and he groans. “Not gonna invite Luna back to my hotel on the first date, dad, what do you think I am?” he’s trying to play it off casual. His heart’s thumping in his chest.

 

“I thought you were a Caelum,” his father replies easily, setting the bag of food down on the little table in the corner of Noct’s hotel room, “honestly, when I was your age, I would’ve been all over her.”

 

“Thought you said I take after mom,” Noctis grumps back, with a roll of his eyes. His dad’s teasing him, he knows that much, but it’s a sore spot, given…. Well, everything. He doesn’t know what to say, so he reaches for one of the cartons of food and opens the top. He eyes the peppers and snowpeas and – is that _pineapple?_ In _noodles? -_ skeptically.

 

“That one’s mine,” his father laughs a little at Noct’s expression of dawning horror, and reaches for the carton, “yours is the chicken. I told them no veggies. Don’t worry.”

 

Noct digs down past the napkins and the plastic utensils and the stack of extra sauces they’ve packed, and pulls out his own food. True to his word, his dad’s gotten him something he’ll actually eat without complaint.

 

“Thanks, dad,” Noct mumbles, and he feels guilty again, that his dad knows what he likes, gets it without any input from him, and here Noctis is, about to be a total asshole and ruin the whole trip. He can stay silent, can’t he? His dad’s happy that he’s here, that they’ve done this together…

 

“Spit it out,” his father says suddenly, interrupting Noct’s thoughts. He jumps, his cheeks flushing, and he looks up from his food, out of total instinct, catching his dad’s eye, and Noct’s terrified what he sees there. His father’s watching him intently, and there’s… something there. An emotion. Concern, maybe? Noct’s not sure. He thinks abruptly that this is the moment, that he should drop it and tell his dad that it’s nothing, and even though it obviously isn’t… he’ll let it go, because it’s his dad.

 

Noct takes a deep breath. He forces a bite of his food, and even though it’s quite good food, his mouth is dry and he sputters and almost chokes. His father passes a can of soda over to him, and Noct takes a deep gulp. A bit better.

 

“… sorry,” Noctis says slowly, quietly, “… dad. I. I’m sorry.” He isn’t sure what he’s apologizing for yet. Maybe for the fact that he’s about to ruin this trip. Or maybe Noct’s apologizing for more than that. He’s apologizing for being a dick to his dad on the weekend, when they were sightseeing and having fun and Noct was dragging his feet and wanting to be anywhere else. Maybe he’s apologizing for the grudge that he’s well aware that he’s still holding. Maybe even that’s shifting, too. His dad’s a person, isn’t he? He remembers Gladio’s conversation with him, about moving on, about letting go of the past, and… maybe there’s some truth to it.

 

His father says nothing, and Noct can feel eyes on him still. He can’t bring himself to look up.

 

“This has been fun, dad, I… I’m glad we did this, I just… I want to go home,” Noct says slowly, quietly, and there’s a flush spreading, starting at his cheeks and spreading all the way down his face, to his neck. He feels tiny, like he’s a little kid back in the hospital bed again, begging his father to stay the night, and his father breaking his heart a million times over telling him that he can’t. Except this time, Noct’s the one leaving, he’s the one putting something else first, and… hell, he’s a terrible son.

 

There’s a silent, for a moment.

 

“I’m not forcing you to stay, Noctis,” his father says quietly, and there’s a thickness to his voice. Noct feels his heart wrench in his chest, again. “If this isn’t fun, we can change your flight. You can go home.”

 

“It’s not that,” Noctis blurts out, words thick with a mouthful of chicken that he’s forcing himself to eat, “this _is_ fun, it’s just… dad, I messed up, there’s something I gotta do at home,” and just saying the words, rapid and quick and urgent, makes Noctis feel both better and worse at the same time. He’s putting something ahead of his dad, after all. He’s pretty sure that makes him a terrible son. He has absolutely no right to fret over gaining his dad’s approval or affection, no place to blame him, because Noct’s throwing his chance away, right here and now. And yet, he feels better because… the choice is made. The words are out there. His father’s given his permission, and even if he’s an asshole, well.

 

Noctis wants to go home.

 

“I know I’m a fuckup, dad, and… I promise, we can talk about this when you get home, I just…” Noctis takes a deep breath, and he forces himself to look up, again. He meets his father’s eyes, and Noctis hopes that his expression is as steeled as his heart is right now, because there’s a fierceness, a determination, “I just have a choice, dad, and… I need to do this by myself, but… I think, eventually, I’m gonna have to ask you for help.”

 

His father meets his gaze, and there’s more emotion there. Noctis can’t figure out what it is, but it’s looking into him, seemingly assessing him. It’s a look Noct has seen his dad offer up to Clarus, to Ignis at times, and hell, to countless employees. His dad smiles, after a moment, and nods, and Noctis thinks he sees some disappointment there, but something else, too. Hell, it just might be a strange sort of approval.

 

“I’m going to hold you to that, Noctis. We’re going to talk about this,” his father agrees. “And you’re right. More than a Caelum, you really are your mother.”

  
They finish dinner. His dad doesn’t ask for details, and Noctis is so fucking grateful. They change his flight to the following morning, and Noct’s stomach does flip-flops the whole evening. He thinks about texting Prompto and telling him that he’s coming home, but… Noct doesn’t know if that will make it better or worse. Honestly, he’s scared to text his best friend. He’s willing to drop everything, to fly halfway back around the world on a whim, but Noctis is still too scared to pick up the phone and text.

 

He’s still got a long way to go.

 

But these first steps, they’re the hardest.

 

At the airport in the morning, Noctis sees a little stuffed dog keychain. It’s a stupid, cheesy gift, but it makes him think of Prompto, of his own birthday so many years back, when they were kids, alone and afraid, and Prompto showed up to give him that plush dog, the one he still keeps in his room. Noctis grabs it. And hell, after pocketing his little purchase from the gift shop, Noct sees one of those electronics vending machines.

 

Prompto’s been complaining that he wants a new gaming headset. There’s one in there, and it lights up all different colours, flashy and extravagant and stupid. Prompto will love it. Noct’s over it, and he whips his credit card out and shoves the box in his carry-on. It’s not the most thoughtful gift, but… well, that’s what comes to mind when he thinks of Prompto. All those old memories, and all the new ones, of the two of them curled up on the couch together, playing games and watching movies and being dumb.

 

Maybe that’s just who he is. Dumb.

 

Noctis finds his gate, and he settles down and waits. It’s early, but the sun’s rising. It’s not a direct flight – they were sold out, and even his dad’s connections could only get him priority listing on the stand-by list for something earlier, but that had fallen through. He has a layover, and with the whole hassle of it, it’ll get him back home late afternoon. That should be enough time.

 

Noctis hopes that it’s enough time, and that he can fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. this chapter is for just_peachy because she bought me a frozen margarita, went on guardians of the galaxy: mission breakout with me, and let me rant general fandom discourse for several hours, thank you, you're the best. <3 
> 
> 2\. yeah wow i've written a lot in the past days, that's what happens when the world of warcraft servers are down and also my husband's been at e3 cuz he works in the gaming industry so woooo free time and lots of inspiration
> 
> 3\. tumblr @ destatree !!
> 
> 4\. sorry i got behind on replying to comments but they are ALL appreciated so much as always ILU all.


	21. Make a Smile Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been a shitty person,” Noctis agrees, and he opts to go with brutal honesty right back at Prompto. He doesn’t know if he can take it, but what choice does he have? “A shitty friend, and a shitty… whatever else, too.” He doesn’t know what the whatever else entails, still. Noctis thinks he wants something else. He’s pretty sure he does. He thinks, maybe, that he’s fallen.

His first flight, Noctis is seated next to a baby who doesn’t stop screaming _the entire time._ The crying starts before they even take off, and it doesn’t end until they touch back down. He puts his headphones in and tries to block it out, and it doesn’t really work. The world is mad at him for abandoning his dad, it seems. If this is punishment for all of Noct’s sins though, he decides that it’s probably worth it.

 

He tries to nap with his music blaring but instead he stares out the window and wonders what the hell he’s going to do. Noctis wonders, not for the first time, exactly how he ended up at this point. After all, things didn’t start out this way, not at all. It’s all started with… what? A drunken conversation well over a year ago. A dumb idea that Noctis blurted out without any real thought of the mess it would cause. It wasn’t supposed to _be_ anything.

 

And, the scariest part of it all is that Noctis doesn’t know if this _is_ anything. He knows now that he wants it to be, but… well, he’s scared about what’s waiting for him when he gets home.

 

Noct has a layover in Accordo, and in a different time, he would’ve enjoyed himself, watching the plane land over the ocean, wandering around a strange airport and watching the people, eating some overpriced food that isn’t very good, the whole deal. Instead, Noctis makes his way immediately to his gate. He tries to play a card game on his phone but he’s distracted and he loses horrendously.

 

His flight is delayed, and it’s only Noct’s introversion that keeps him from having a potential meltdown on the poor employee working because he _needs_ to get back to Insomnia, nevermind the mother with the stressed out twin toddlers who looks ready to cry or the businessman who _is_ yelling at the poor employee behind the little booth at the gate. Something about the plane they had scheduled for that route being delayed due to weather conditions. It’s a big airport, why can’t they get another plane?!

 

It only works out to about a forty minute delay. It’s not the end of the world, even though it kinda feels like it. Noct’s not sitting next to a screaming baby (or the mother with the toddlers, thank god), but the guy in front of him seems to like to recline his seat as far as it will possibly go. Noctis decides he’s gonna go back to flying business class with his dad from now on.

 

When the plane finally lands in Insomnia, some hours later, Noct strongly debates if he should call Ignis or Gladio The thought of seeing either of his friends right now makes his stomach do flips. Noct’s not sure if Prompto’s filled them in on what’s happened while he’s gone. Noctis doesn’t think that his best friend would, but… well. Emotions are running wild.

 

He texts his dad that he’s landed. He sends Luna a quick message, thanking her again, and letting her know as well. His dad responds with a thumbs-up emoji, and Noct rolls his eyes. Luna replies with a  ‘you’ve got this, Noctis!’ which Noct thinks is supposed to be encouraging. Maybe it is, in a way. He doesn’t feel like he’s got this, not at all. And instead of calling Ignis, or one of his dad’s guys, or any of that type of thing, he decides to just suck it up and pay for a ride, and he hails down a ride from his life app.

 

Noctis doesn’t like romantic comedies. At least, that’s what he claims. In reality, he’s seen a whole lot of them, because his best friend is a sucker for them. There’s always some stupid set-up where the two meet, or the two lifelong friends become closer. Something. And then there’s a whole lot of back and forth, some ridiculous, drawn out conflict that’s trying to keep the two lovers apart, the usual cliché stuff. But there’s always a moment at the end. There’s a big, romantic, dramatic moment, where the two come together.

 

As Noct gets out of the car that’s dropping him off at his place, he thinks that maybe this is his moment. Maybe sometimes this stuff does happen. He’ll go upstairs, and he’ll go inside, and Prompto will be there, alone on his birthday. Noct’s going to surprise him. He’s going to… well, he’ll confess whatever the hell it is he’s feeling. Noctis hasn’t worked that part out yet, not entirely but he’s willing to admit that this isn’t just a best friends thing anymore.

 

Of course, real life isn’t like it is in the movies.

 

There’s still a long moment of Noctis standing in the hallway, outside their front door. He’s got his suitcase so he didn’t bother with the back steps this time. He steadies himself. He unlocks the door, and goes inside, and…

 

The apartment is dark and empty, save for a gentle thud and the chirp of the cat as Peanut stalks his way down the hall to investigate.

 

Whatever Prompto’s doing for his birthday, he isn’t spending it at home. Noctis really should have sucked it up and texted him and he realizes that with a quiet groan. Almost twelve hours of travel, it’s getting late in the afternoon, and he’s still making the same stupid mistakes he was making when all of this started.

 

“I’m not very smart, am I?” Noctis says to the cat quietly as he kneels down to bump his knuckles up against the Peanut’s face.

 

The cat meows, and then swats at Noct’s outstretched hand with a clawed paw, and if that’s not an agreement, Noctis doesn’t know what it is. He kicks his shoes off and drags his suitcase into his bedroom. Honestly, Noct figures this day can’t get worse, until there’s a squelch and he feels something cold, wet, and slimy squishing into the bottom of his sock. Apparently Peanut is upset about being left home alone, and has decided to vomit up a long string of hairball right in the middle of Noct’s room.

 

Noctis swears and peels his sock off and tosses it into the corner. He feels like he’s about to cry from frustration.

 

So of course, he sucks it up. He texts Ignis. Maybe he should be texting Prompto, but… well. Noct’s still convinced he’s going to surprise him, even if the rest of the universe seems to think this is not a good idea.

 

‘iggy whats up’

 

Ignis responds – he always does, and promptly – “We’re celebrating Prompto’s birthday at my place, you should really text him, Noctis.”

 

Score.

 

Noctis puts on a fresh pair of socks, and he doesn’t bother to clean up the cat vomit. The little bastard will probably just do it again now that he’s instantly leaving. Peanut hisses when he walks by, which seems to be validation of that particular theory.

 

He throws his shoes back on, and grabs his heavier jacket from the closet, since he’s back in Insomnia and fall, it seems, is finally beginning to fade into the dull grey stretch of time that spans the gloom between autumn and winter proper. This isn’t a big deal, Noctis tells himself, it’s just his friends there, and he’ll show up, surprise Prompto, and everything will be fine.

 

The wind is howling as Noctis makes his way over to Ignis’s. Very ominous, or something. Noct’s not sure what exactly he should say or do. He’s supposed to be in Tenebrae with his dad. He wonders if his father’s texted Ignis and let him know that he’s here. If he has, Iggy’s playing dumb, and Noct doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

 

There’s a second moment here. A second chance at Noct’s great, triumphant return. He thinks, just maybe, as he stands in front of Ignis’s apartment building, that this is it. He’ll knock on the door, and Prompto will answer and yeah, it’ll be weird, their friends are there, but this is what Ignis has been quietly encouraging him to do, right? He’ll fix all of this.

 

Noct should know better by now. He really should.

 

It’s Aranea, of all fucking people, who opens the door when Noctis knocks. She blinks, and for a half-second she looks like she’s been caught off guard by Noct’s appearance. She looks good, but she always looks good, cat-like eyes, hair messy down her back in a casual, ‘I know I’m hot’ kind of way, tight black jeans and a t-shirt that somehow shows off a whole lot of curves and cleavage while being… a simple t-shirt.

 

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Aranea says cheerfully, immediately recovering, “thought you were off on the other side of the world with daddy?”

 

“I was,” Noctis peeks over Aranea’s shoulder. It seems like a relatively low-key event. There’s a bunch of food – some of it prepared by Ignis, no doubt – piled on the kitchen table. Noct’s stomach grumbles. He doesn’t _feel_ hungry but he hasn’t eaten all day.

 

“Everyone’s in the living room,” Aranea says, and she steps aside to let Noctis in. Noct notices, as he steps inside, that there’s somehow even _more_ of her stuff scattered around Ignis’s mostly-immaculate, but currently cluttered kitchen. Poor Ignis is going to have one hell of a time cleaning up after hosting a party, Noct thinks, eyeing a few mixed drinks and red cups littering the kitchen counter, several mostly-empty plates covered in remnants of food, a couple of gifts, and a few helium balloons that have gotten loose and are bumping their way along the ceiling, trailing long strings down. There are a few books stacked next to the fridge that are very clearly not Ignis’s, though, several more pairs of strappy looking heels or thigh-high boots on the shoe rack, and there’s a fucking _replica spear_ mounted on the wall. That’s definitely not Ignis’s. Or if it is, this is a recent development in his friend’s tastes.

 

Noctis will have to come back to this later, though, because Aranea’s grabbing his arm, and her grip is tight, and mildly terrifying, enough to make him jump.

 

“I dunno what you did to blondie, lover boy,” Aranea says quietly, her voice a low hiss, and Noctis realizes, yet again, that this woman is completely fucking terrifying, “but don’t fuck this up, got it?”

 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Noctis grumbles, and Aranea seems satisfied enough with that response, because she loosens her grip on his arm enough for Noctis to wrench free. Of course, that isn’t enough, not entirely on its own, and on some level, Noctis knows that, but… baby steps. This is a step forward. Maybe even _several_ steps forward. Noctis is here. His dad’s back in Tenebrae, and Luna’s there too, living a life that Noctis has realized he knows absolutely very little about. And he’s in Ignis’s living room, on Prompto’s birthday, joining a party that is happening without him.

 

Noctis is realizing a lot of things. One of those things is just that: life goes on without him.

 

Everyone’s in the living room when Noct makes his way in. Gladio and his little sister are duking it out in a fighter game, and Iris Amicitia, not even fifteen years old yet, is absolutely destroying him. If Noctis was a more responsible person, he’d probably be mildly concerned about a young teenage girl being at a college party, but they’ve all grown up together so it feels second-nature. Besides, Gladio’s probably watching the poor thing like a hawk. He has a weak spot for his baby sister. Ignis is sitting on the couch, and apparently all shame has gone to hell because he lets Aranea outright settle on his lap and throw her legs over his. There’s a girl with short blonde hair, too – Noct recognizes her as the girl from their college classes, Cindy, the one who gave up her number that one time. And seated in the middle, a drink in hand, is Prompto. Noctis pauses in the doorway, and takes a deep, breath.

 

“Hey everyone,” Noct does his best to sound casual. He probably sounds as exhausted as he looks, and the fact that he’s been traveling for a really long time and has dark circles under his eyes and really needs sleep hits him like a brick wall as Prompto starts, his eyes widening as he looks up, as their gazes meet.

 

Noct’s stomach leaps into his throat. It’s starting to get really annoying, how often that particular sensation seems to hit him. For a long moment, Noct gets the distinct feeling that Prompto doesn’t want him here. That he’s going to ask him to leave. Worse, that he’s going to fucking yell at him. Nobody’s saying anything.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says and he smiles, and the tension eases up some.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, and he manages a smile that isn’t entirely awkward. Mostly.

 

“Thought you were gonna miss my birthday,” Prompto teases, but it’s more than just simple, light-hearted words; it’s bordering on something more, maybe on genuine hurt, even as his best friend’s playing everything off as sunshine, as usual.

 

“Almost did,” Noctis teases back, “but wouldn’t miss it for the world.” That part is true, too. Noct leaves out the part where he actually forgot it, where Luna had to remind him that he’s got his head so far up his own ass that he can’t even see what’s right in front of him. Noctis has a pretty good feeling that Prompto’s well aware of that.

 

And there’s a moment here, another opportunity. Because all of their friends are trying to fade into the background, to make it look like they aren’t watching the exchange (except maybe Aranea of course, because she’s nosy and she’s _definitely_ watching them with smug approval), and Noctis has a chance, if he takes it. He could go for it, could lean in and steal the kiss he wants to, so badly, all their friends be damned, all hiding aside and all caution thrown to the fucking wind.

 

He doesn’t though. Instead, Noctis offers an awkward little half smile, and Prompto returns it.

 

“Hey,” he says suddenly, “nicotine craving’s hitting real good. I’m gonna go get a smoke. Wanna come with me, Noct?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis says, and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or terrified. Probably both. Accepting both feelings seems like a good start. “C’mon.”

 

“Pick up some more soda while you’re at it,” Ignis adds as Prompto stands, and Noctis awkwardly waits for him. It’s really, totally, completely obvious that Ignis is just trying to find a reason for them to be gone for a while. Noctis thinks he’s grateful.

 

Noctis bundles back up in his coat and his sneakers, and when they make their way down the stairs, Prompto nudges their shoulders together. It makes Noctis smile a little, and he’s surprised how easy it is to smile, all things considered.

 

They end up outside, leaning against the railing of the stairs that lead up to the front door of Ignis’s apartment. Prompto bites down on the end of his cigarette, balancing it between his teeth as he fumbles through his pockets for his lighter. There’s a whole lot of nervous energy in the air between them, and Noctis isn’t sure if his friend’s jittery because of nerves, or lack of nicotine, or if there’s a causal relationship driving the whole thing.

 

Noctis shoves his hands in his pockets, and scuffs his shoe, kicking at the edge of the step.

 

“So,” Prompto says slowly, after he lights up and takes a long, deep drag of his cigarette, head tipping back as he exhales heavily. “How was Tenebrae?”

 

Noctis chews on his lip. He swears, he’s going to start picking up on all these nervous habits, just from this stupid thing he’s got going on with Prompto, never mind all the other sources of stress in his life. “It was… interesting,” he replies. “Luna’s intense.”

 

“Isn’t she though?” Prompto laughs a little, pulling on the cigarette again. The harsh smell of smoke gets into Noct’s lungs, but he ignores the urge to cough, because the scent still reminds him of Prompto. It makes Noctis think of those first kisses they ever shared, of mint and hints of smoke and tang of tobacco, and fuck, Noctis wishes he could just wrench that cigarette out of his best friend’s mouth and go for it.

 

Instead, Noctis starts to walk. Prompto catches his drift, and follows, and their shoulders bump as they make their way down the street, wandering aimlessly, going nowhere in particular.

 

“I think,” Noctis says slowly, as they walk, “that you know her better than I do.”

 

Prompto pauses. He flicks the butt of his cigarette and sprinkles ash to the the ground. “Noctis, no offense, but you’re oblivious. To like. _Everything._ ”

 

Noctis groans. He knows. He’s painfully fucking aware of this fact. He narrows his eyes and offers Prompto a hint of a smile, a bit less nerves now, a bit more of their usual banter. “You shouldn’t get ashes everywhere. Gonna start a fire.”

 

“Noctis,” Prompto sighs, “the ground is wet. It rained earlier.” Wet is a bit of an overstatement, but it’s damp out, and it’s supposed to rain later, more of that dreary grey in-between seasons weather.

 

“Still a bad habit,” Noctis laughs. His fingers are twitching, where thery’re crammed in his coat pockets. He pulls a hand out and holds it up, “give me a drag of that, huh?”

 

Prompto stops and looks at Noctis, with impassive eyes and a crooked smile, and shrugs. “Iggy’s gonna kill me if I get you hooked, you know. I should tell you no.”

 

“Not the first time you’ll be a bad influence,” Noctis laughs a little, and Prompto’s smile widens, reminiscent of his usual bright, sunny, cheerful one. It warms Noct’s heart, and for a moment, just a moment, the scene’s transformed into something else. It’s the two of them standing on the back porch of Noct’s apartment when they first moved in, before everything got all muddled and confusing. For just a split second, Noctis feels like they’re carefree best friends again.

 

But the wind is cold and it makes Noctis shudder and this moment passes and they’re back in the present.

 

“Besides,” Noctis shrugs, “I want to understand you. I’m starting to think I don’t know you at all, Prom, I…”

 

Prompto eyes him, and Noctis feels the urge to look down. He doesn’t though, he holds Prompto’s gaze, and something quiet, something that Noctis can’t quite describe, passes through them. It’s a wave of emotion, and Noctis’s stomach flips, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad, or what’s going to happen next.

 

“You know me better than you think, Noct,” Prompto says with that same little smile, but he shrugs again and tugs the cigarette from his lips, and passes it over to Noctis. Their fingers brush together as Noctis takes it. The butt is damp, and Noctis rolls the cigarette thoughtfully between his fingers before he lifts it to his lips and takes a drag.

 

It’s rough, and the smoke is acrid and burns Noct’s lungs. He makes a rough choking noise in the back of his throat and coughs, rough and dry and heaving as the smoke catches in his lungs and everything hurts.

 

“The fuck you do that for?” Noctis chokes out, and on the bright side, it makes Prompto laugh. And not just one of those half-assed laughs, Prompto really, truly, honest-to-god bursts out laughing as he swipes the cigarette back from Noct’s loose fingers.

 

“Dude, your _face,_ you look like you’re gonna puke,” Prompto manages to gasp out between ridiculous, choked laughter, and Noctis can’t help it. His stomach is queasy, his nerves are shot, and his lungs hate him, but he laughs too, and they’re leaning into each other and giggling and really, they’re treading the line here between worlds, two universes seemingly colliding.

 

“You _really_ need to quit,” Noctis laughs, and Prompto takes another drag, long and easy, turning his head to exhale away from Noctis. Noct appreciates it – he’s pretty sure he’s lost a few years of his life just with that one drag. Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but whatever.

 

Prompto stops to dab out the his cigarette on the brick wall of a building they’re walking past. He’s only smoked half of it, but he still tucks the unsmoked bit back into his pack of cigarettes. It’s not a cheap habit, after all, and Noct knows that Prompto hates to spend money on his little vice.

 

“I’ll quit eventually,” Prompto shrugs with a self-conscious little laugh. “Maybe I just need a different bad habit.”

 

“Maybe,” Noctis agrees. He should kiss him. Fuck, he should talk about his feelings. Noctis knows he has to. They’re still playing this game, and they can’t keep doing this forever. Maybe Prompto’s giving him his space, and Noctis appreciates that, but… there’s a hurt running there, too, and Noct keeps getting glimpses at it, and he thinks the channel runs wide and deep.

 

“Prom,” Noctis says as they start walking again. They’re about halfway to the little convenience store near Ignis’s place, a shop that’s frequented entirely by college students looking for overpriced junk food, cheap 40s, and packs of cigarettes. He takes a deep breath, stops, and reaches tentatively for Prompto’s arm. Noct’s fingers curl around his best friend’s forearm, and the touch should maybe feel electric, but instead it’s all tension. It’s the feeling of Prompto tensing just a little under Noct’s grip, it’s a moment of Noctis almost letting go, before he gathers his resolve. It’s a lot of nerves.

 

“Look, I’m… sorry. I need to apologize,” Noctis sighs out heavily. Prompto doesn’t look at him. There aren’t many other people out walking along the sidewalk, luckily, because it’s a gross day. Noctis is a bit appreciative, because they’re out in the open, exposed and vulnerable, and Noct’s putting his heart on his sleeve, his soul laid bare for Prompto to accept or destroy.

 

“Yeah, you do,” Prompto agrees, after a heartbeat’s pause. “Noct, I know you didn’t mean it, but… it hurt. A lot. It was really fucking shitty.”

 

Noct’s stomach drops, and his heart is back to pounding wildly against his ribs like a caged animal trying to break free. And not for any of the fun reasons, either. He’s known as much. Noctis has known it, Ignis has tried to tell him, Luna was brutally honest in her graceful, beautiful, and impossibly fierce way. Hell, Noctis wonders if even his dad’s been trying to tell him something, too. Still, there’s a part of Noctis that’s been holding out, that’s been desperately telling himself it’s not so bad, that he hasn’t fucked this up yet.

 

“I’ve been a shitty person,” Noctis agrees, and he opts to go with brutal honesty right back at Prompto. He doesn’t know if he can take it, but what choice does he have? “A shitty friend, and a shitty… whatever else, too.” He doesn’t know what the whatever else entails, still. Noctis thinks he wants something else. He’s pretty sure he does. He thinks, maybe, that he’s fallen.

 

Prompto normally wears his heart on his sleeve, and Noct’s watching for a reaction, but he doesn’t quite get one. He thinks something passes in Prompto’s eyes, that maybe his lips twitch up into something, but whether it’s a smile or a smirk or something terrible, Noctis doesn’t know. He feels like he should know his best friend better. This is all new ground though. This is territory that’s not familiar.

 

It’s so grey outside. Noctis wishes they could be in Tenebrae, instead.

 

“I should’ve invited you to come with me,” Noctis says quietly, when Prompto doesn’t respond right away. “Would’ve been a good birthday trip, and…” he sighs, takes a deep breath. His hand’s still on Prompto’s arm, and his best friend hasn’t shaken the touch away yet. Noctis thinks that’s a good sign. He squeezes Prompto’s arm. “… it’s never been about Luna, Prom. She’s never… she’s a friend, she’s a fantasy from when I was a kid, and… it’s dumb. It’s not what I want.”

 

Prompto looks at him, and the world sparkles around them for a second.

 

“What do you want, Noct?” Prompto says quietly.

 

“I think, maybe,” Noctis replies, just as quietly, and he picks his moment, picks his words carefully, and goes for it. He fucking goes for it, finally, “I want to try again. With you. For real this time.”

 

Prompto’s eyes widen a little, and this time, Noctis absolutely notices. It’s a bit more familiar. It’s his best friend wearing his heart on his sleeve right back, and that’s the Prompto that Noctis knows. It’s his bubbly, happy, amazing, fucking _gorgeous_ best friend, all freckles and sunshine even during this dreary, horrible day.

 

Noctis feels like he’s soaring. This is going to work.

 

“Noct,” Prompto says though, and it’s in a tone that Noctis really doesn’t like. It’s slow, careful, and it’s not the breathless happiness that Noct’s wanting to hear. “What did you tell your dad? Does he know?”

 

That’s not a question that Noctis is expecting to hear. He chews on his lip again. He’s pretty sure it’s going to end up torn and bleeding by the end of this day. “We talked a little,” Noctis is just as careful with his response. He’s not sure where this is going. “He… doesn’t know why I left early. Just that I had to.”

 

Prompto nods slowly. “You’re my best friend, Noctis. We’ll always be best friends. I…” he laughs a little, and it’s half bitterness, half joy, something a little broken and something that Noctis understands immediately somehow. And just as instantly, Noctis wants to kneel down, to cover his eyes and close his eyes and exist anywhere but this moment.

 

“I want to drag you back home and crawl into bed with you, y’know?” Prompto continues, with a little smile, and he tugs his arm away, but gently, shifting to reach for Noct’s hand, to twine their fingers together, a little awkwardly. “But I’m pissed at you Noctis. Fuck, dude, I’m _mad.”_

 

They’ve fought before, of course. Two teenage boys who are horribly similar in strange ways? There’s been vicious arguments about video games and high scores, dumb arguments that spawn from a disagreement on facts of how a certain event went or how a particular comic ended that spiral out of control. They’ve had scuffles and the occasional fist fight, one when they were sixteen that ended in Prompto getting a bloody nose and Noctis apologizing frantically and Ignis pressing a frozen bag of peas to Prompto’s face. Noctis can’t remember seeing Prompto honest to god _angry_ though. It’s terrifying, because his best friend is laughing a little, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes fierce and blue and passionate.

 

“What can I do?” Noctis sighs, because he knows he deserves it, and all he can do is accept his fate.

 

“I don’t wanna date someone who can’t come clean about who they are,” Prompto says, and he’s inspired by admitting how he feels, maybe, because he keeps going, keeps pressing. “I’m not gonna force you Noct, it’s hard, it’s fuckin’ almost impossible, I know, and I’ve been trying but… I just can’t go back there. I can’t pretend that we aren’t something, and I’m not gonna hide from your dad.”

 

Noctis knows that. He’s so sick of hiding from his dad, too. He’s tired, and Luna’s put him on the right path, maybe, but it still all comes down to him. He thinks, maybe, his heart is breaking into a million pieces, but he’s not sure.

 

“I dunno when I’ll ever be able to talk to my dad about this,” Noctis admits, quiet, his voice quivering a little.

 

Prompto stills for a moment. He squeezes Noct’s hand, hard, and gently pulls away. Their shoulders are still bumping. They’re standing on the sidewalk, tucked off to the side a little bit at least, but it’s still empty and nobody’s passing by, nobody’s forced to bear witness to this awkward conversation, this… what? Break up? It can’t be a break up, of course, because they’ve never been together to start with.

 

“We’re best friends, Noctis,” Prompto says quietly, and the words are an echo of the ones Noctis offered up frantically before he left for Tenebrae. They hit Noctis square in the fucking chest, and it whips the breath from his lungs. “I… I’m gonna need some time, Noct. To get over this. And if you wanna try again, after you’ve figured your shit out, we’ll talk then, okay? But until that happens. We gotta be best friends.”

 

There’s still a moment, maybe, where Noctis can grab Prompto by the shoulders, where he can go in for a kiss, hard and desperate and needy, and he can beg his best friend to forgive him. He can call his dad, and he can confess everything, the world be damned. Noctis can maybe save this.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis says instead, in a voice that’s pathetically small. “Best friends, Prom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i-i'm sorry?? i really am (while quietly whispering 'i'm not sorry...') 
> 
> 1\. my new-ish buddy (can i call you that omg) numi drew a really, really OMG AMAZING pic of smoking!Prompto inspired by ludic on her tumblr @numinoceur and well. honestly, i was already writing the smoking scene there, but this probably is what inspired it to turn into full-blown angstfest. well, the angstfest was happening one way or another, but that's how it ended up all coming together. noct's lungs just can't handle this.
> 
> 2\. on tumblr @destatree !
> 
> 3\. i keep getting behind on comments and love and such but i seriously appreciate all feedback, as always. <3


	22. More Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” Prompto tries again, though he sounds a little uncertain of himself, a little distant, and it makes Noctis frown, that uneasy feeling from before rising in his throat again. “About what I said earlier.” 
> 
> “We don’t have to talk about it,” Noctis replies quickly. “I got it, Prom. You’re my best friend. It’s okay.”

How Noctis gets through the rest of Prompto’s party, he doesn’t really know. Honestly, he doesn’t remember much of it, after the fact. The walk back to Ignis’s place feels long, the two of them making their way in near-silence. Prompto finishes off the cigarette after all, and Noct thinks it’s probably his fault and he’s reducing his best friend into a nervous wreck. That makes two of them.

 

 It’d make things worse to run out and leave it all behind, Noctis knows that, but mentally he checks out the first chance he gets, settled back in Ignis’s apartment. He’s pretty sure that Ignis is keeping an eye on him, because he pointedly doesn’t offer him a drink, even when Aranea and Gladio start a drinking contest and she viciously sweeps the floor with him. They all have a birthday shot in honor of Prompto (even Gladio’s sister, much to big brother’s irritation, but he’s too drunk at this point to say no), and Noctis refuses his. Noct doesn’t want a drink, anyway, because he’s pretty sure it’ll just make him dumb and stupid. Well, dumber and stupider, anyway. Iris ends up curled up next to him, half asleep, and the jetlag combined with lack of sleep kicks in hard and swift and Noct ends up sleeping through the latter half of his best friend’s birthday party.

 

Ignis gently shakes him awake some hours later. Well, gently by Noctis standards, which means poor Iggy’s probably knocking his face into the side of the couch and jostling him around. “Noct. Everyone’s packing up. I’m certainly not opposed to you staying here, if you’d prefer…”

 

Noctis absolutely doesn’t want to go home. He wants to close his eyes and fall back asleep. But even more than that, he doesn’t want to be making a nuisance of himself at Ignis’s apartment. So he grumbles and drags himself awake; he stands up, stretching, his back aching and creaking from his uncomfortable position at the foot of the couch.

 

“If you’d like to assist with cleaning up, you’re welcome to head home later,” Ignis adds, and he shoots a pointed look over Noct’s shoulder. Noctis blinks – like hell he’s going to clean up – but he turns around and sees that Prompto’s pulling his sweater on and packing up the little assortment of gifts into an oversized gift bag. Oh. Noct’s dumb, but he’s smart enough to realize that Ignis is offering up an out here, if he wants it. And he does, but… fuck. Noct’s head hurts, too.

 

“I should… probably go, Iggy,” Noctis sighs out. He tugs his shoes and his jacket back on. It’s awkward. He knew it’s going to be awkward. There’s no avoiding it.

 

“You want some help carrying that?” Noctis nods at the bag in Prompto’s hand as his friend says his final goodbyes to Ignis and Aranea (Gladio, Iris, and Cindy already took off) in the front doorway. Aranea’s far too cheerful and coherent for someone who has easily had as much to drink as everyone else combined. There’s a bit of hesitance though as Prompto looks up at Noctis, their eyes meeting, and it’s another sharp jolt of some intense feeling to Noct’s heart. He pushes it aside. He’s got to push it aside.

 

“Nah,” Prompto offers up a hopeful little half-smile, “but I’m a little drunk. Probably need you to walk with me, if that’s okay.”

 

Noctis shrugs. “We’re going to the same place, aren’t we?” For now at least. Home sweet home.

 

“True,” Prompto scratches the back of his head with his free hand, and the two set off on the walk home, Ignis watching them with skeptical eyes, Aranea on her tiptoes and whispering some words or another in his ear. Probably just telling him to calm the hell down, honestly.

 

“Never really told me how Tenebrae was,” Prompto says quietly as they make their way down the street. It’s late, and Noct’s feet are dragging. Will the two of them ever be able to walk down a street together again without Noctis thinking back to earlier that evening? They’re best friends. They’ve always been best friends. Noctis doesn’t think he can handle losing Prompto’s friendship on top of everything else he’s trying to come to terms with, he knows that. So he smiles a faint little smile and looks down, scuffing his feet at the ground.

 

“Mostly got dragged around places by my dad, he’s one of those weird old tourists, did you know that…?” Noctis can’t help but crack a smile though, a real one, at the memory of his dad, awful baseball cap and everything. He has a photo on his phone, actually, he remembers, and he tugs it out. The battery’s running low – a result of basically traveling nonstop and then running right to Ignis’s – but he opens his photos and scrolls back to a selfie his dad had basically forced him to take, back on that dumb castle tour. He’d insisted it was something about ‘remembering the fantastic view’ along with ‘preserving the memories’ but Noct is pretty sure his dad just wanted to take the most embarrassing photo possible, complete with a peace sign and a big dumb dad smile and an arm thrown around Noct’s shoulders.

 

Noct’s screen is bright and glaring in the darkness, and he holds it out for Prompto to see. His friend takes one look and busts out laughing – and the alcohol probably just makes it better.

 

“Okay, Noct, man, you look _pissed,”_ Prompto grins and nudges their shoulders together, and for a moment, it feels normal again. Like they’re best friends.

 

“That castle was boring! And,” Noctis groans at the memory, “he wouldn’t stop telling me that everything was ‘lit’ … who uses that word?”

 

“People cooler than you,” Prompto teases. It makes Noctis smile though, and there’s a moment where they share a long, meaningful look, and Noct smiles again, a little easier, even though he’s confused as all hell, honestly. One moment they’re friends, the next, they’re falling back into uneasy silence, making their way along the street. It’s cold out, damn near freezing, and Noct’s breath is puffing out in front of him as they walk. There’s a few stragglers making their way home from the bars, and a few cars, but other than that, just the two of them. A lot of silence, and wide expanse of darkness, occasionally brightened by a streetlight above, or the headlights of a passing vehicle.

 

“Hey,” Prompto tries again, though he sounds a little uncertain of himself, a little distant, and it makes Noctis frown, that uneasy feeling from before rising in his throat again. “About what I said earlier.”

 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Noctis replies quickly. “I got it, Prom. You’re my best friend. It’s okay.” Noct’s mind is quick to go into damage control mode here. He doesn’t really know what else there is they could possibly talk about – and he doesn’t think he wants to know. It all comes back to the fact that he’s fucked up here. That when it comes down to it, Noctis thinks (no, worse, he _knows)_ he wants his best friend, but he doesn’t know _how_ to get them there.

 

“I just…” Prompto sighs. “Sorry, Noct. I’ll drop it. But… it’s not just about me, y’know? I think your dad. He’s _trying,_ and he… I mean, he’s always been nice to me. I think he just wants you to be happy, you gotta stop beating yourself up about him...” Prompto’s frowning, and he’s fidgeting, tugging and pulling at the sleeve of his sweater. Noctis recognizes that gesture. Prompto’s nervous, probably having an internal dilemma about whether or not he should whip out another cigarette. He doesn’t though. Noctis is oddly proud of him for that, even though he has no place to be.

 

“You’ve been talking to Iggy then, huh?” Noctis opts to say. He’s starting to think that everyone else is in on some great secret, some rule to the universe that Noct’s not privy to. It sure seems like everyone he knows has figured things out, or got their shit together in some way. Even Prompto seems… different in a way. Like he’s growing up. And here’s Noctis, dragging his feet, looking away, refusing to mete his friend’s gaze, and wondering how the hell he’s gotten so left behind.

 

“A little,” Prompto confesses, but at least he has the audacity to sound somewhat embarrassed, “I mean. You’re my best friend Noct, but sometimes… you don’t _say_ much, y’know?”

 

Noct’s shoulders stiffen. He feels the urge to turn around and run back to Ignis’s just to avoid this conversation. Maybe to yell some. Noctis really could go for a good, angry yelling session. He doesn’t know if he’s mad at Ignis for getting involved, or mad at Prompto for dragging someone else into this, or just angry at himself for getting into this whole fucking situation in the first place. Probably that last option.

 

“Maybe,” Noctis says instead, gritting his teeth and shoving both hands in his pockets, eyes focusing straight ahead, “you could have asked me, instead of going to Ignis.”

 

“Noctis,” Prompto sighs, “I’ve been trying to talk to you for _years_ now about your dad. Before any of this other shit even started.”

 

Noctis knows it’s the truth, and he can’t do anything but sigh again, low and frustrated. He wants to go to sleep. Every part of him hurts, and he’s just… exhausted. Physically, but mostly emotionally.

 

“I know,” Noct can’t do anything but agree, either, because Prompto’s right. He’s been messed up over his dad’s expectations for years now. It’s probably time to talk to him. If not about Prompto, about… everything else. But the idea isn’t more than a vague concept right now in Noct’s mind. He’s just too tired, and the pain is too recent, everything hitting too close to home for him to process properly. Besides, his dad’s in Tenebrae, and he’s probably _pissed_ that Noctis ran off so suddenly.

 

The cat meows loud when they get back home, and Prompto scoops him up. The cat doesn’t let anyone else pick him up, of course, but it’s Prompto’s cat through and through, and Peanut perches happily on his shoulder, purring. Noctis needs to unpack, but instead he drags his bags into his room and unceremoniously opens his suitcase in the middle of the floor.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Prompto appears in Noct’s doorway a few minutes later, and he looks hesitant. “I picked up a lot of shifts at work so… don’t worry when I’m not really home, okay?”

 

Noct’s sitting on the floor, trying to sort through his clothing, to remember what he wore in Tenebrae, what’s clean, what’s dirty but passable so that he doesn’t have to wash it, and it’s a little hopeless. It’s a simple task, and he’s overwhelmed. He glances up at Prompto, and the realization hits.

  
“Oh. I…” Noct lifts to his knees and grabs his carry on bag, and he flushes bright as he digs through it and pulls out the gifts he’d picked up for Prompto. “These are for you. I didn’t wanna give them to you at the party cuz… y’know. Figured it’d be weird.”

 

Prompto’s eyes light up, and there’s a split second again, another one of those _moments_ where Noctis thinks maybe it’s okay between them, before he rearranges his face in that thoughtful, hesitant expression.

 

“I… thanks, Noct,” Prompto says as he examines the gifts. He grins widely at the headset. “This is like, really cool. It _lights up?_ ” and despite the stress of the situation, despite how awful this all is, Noctis grins right back and he feels just the slightest bit better, even though he’s concerned too, because his heart is thumping in his chest way harder than it should just from this. The little keychain gives him pause though, and Noct realizes he can’t read Prompto’s expression at all as he examines it.

 

“Reminded me of you,” Noctis says slowly. “Remember when we were kids? You gave me that dog…”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto’s voice is a little distant, “what happened to that, anyway?”

 

The toy’s in Noct’s closet. He’s been sleeping with it a lot lately, since life has gotten so fucked up, and it still brings him a certain level of comfort. But he’s always careful to return it back to its spot in the mornings, tucked into a box of old comics and stuff from high school.

 

“Dunno what happened to it,” Noctis lies swiftly and awkwardly. “Anyway. Night, Prom.”

 

“… night, Noctis,” and if Prompto’s hesitating, maybe second-guessing the conversation they’d had earlier, he doesn’t mention it, and Noct doesn’t quite pick up on it. He picks up on _something,_ but he can’t quite place it. It’s probably for the best though, because Prompto’s right, he really is. Noctis needs to figure out what he wants, and he needs to start _talking._

 

Any fear of being unable to sleep is erased by how damn exhausted Noctis is. He gives up on unpacking, strips his clothes off, crawls into bed in just his boxers, and he immediately falls asleep. Well. Noct wanders over to his closet first, and digs through an old box there, so that he doesn’t have to sleep entirely alone.

 

\---

 

True to his word, Prompto’s not at the apartment when Noctis wakes up late the following afternoon. Technically, it might not even be afternoon anymore, and it’s probably closer to evening. The sun hasn’t gone down yet, but it’s damn close. At some point, Noct’s phone died overnight – he didn’t bother to plug it in before passing out. He grumbles and he fumbles around to find it, along with the charger, and he feels groggy and heavy, the distinct signs of a person who’s definitely slept too long.

 

He should get out of bed. He should shower, too. Noct’s aware of these things. Just like he’s aware of everything else, on a vague, basic level. Instead, he crawls back into bed and presses his face into the pillow while he waits for his phone to turn on. It’s a good thing Noctis has the rest of the week off school, too, because when his phone sucks up enough juice to flip on, he realizes it’s 5:30 in the evening. He’s slept a full what, fifteen hours?

 

“Fuck,” Noctis grumbles, well aware that nobody can hear him.

 

Or, well, someone can hear him, because the door creaks and then there’s a small thump and the slightest shifting of weight as Peanut jumps up onto the bed and saunters over to nudge his face into Noct’s, tail quivering.

 

“Oh, I see, you like me when nobody else is here, huh?” Noctis rolls his eyes. He hates that he’s actually grateful for the company of Prompto’s grumpy, dumb cat.

 

His phone’s a bit blown up with text messages. A couple from Iggy, asking if he got home okay, and ‘I assume you’re sleeping but honestly Noctis, it’s 3 PM, please reply’, one from Gladio, and a couple from his dad. Oh, and one from Luna, which surprises Noctis the most, since she normally just respects his boundaries and does the whole email thing so that he doesn’t feel horribly guilty about not replying immediately and can use the whole ‘I didn’t check my phone’ excuse.

 

Noctis drags his ass out of bed after a while of lounging around, and it’s mostly because he decides, reluctantly, that he should probably eat. He gets a bowl of cereal, and he replies to his text messages. First, to Ignis, ‘Im fine gonna go back to bed’ and really, that’s Noct’s priority plan here. He doesn’t bother to stop the cat from sticking his face into his bowl of cereal. It’s mini wheats today, Prompto’s secret cereal weakness, because as much as his best friend claims that cereal is awful and ‘empty carbs and sugar,’ whenever Noct buys mini wheats, they disappear awfully fast.

 

He texts his dad a quick hello to let him know he’s back and everything’s okay. It’s not okay, not really. Not at all. Then he texts Gladio. Noct’s more than a little annoyed – or upset, maybe – that Prompto hasn’t texted him from work at all today. That’s not like his best friend, who’s usually blowing his phone up. It’s going to take a while for things to go back to normal, isn’t it? If they ever do.

 

Noctis dumps his bowl in the sink, but he doesn’t bother to rinse it out, or clean it. He crawls back into bed. He rolls onto his back. Luna’s text message is a simple one, along the lines of ‘let me know how your trip back goes!’ and Noctis knows she’s saying a hell of a lot more than those simple words.

 

And Noct doesn’t know what does it. Maybe it’s the fact that he feels like shit from sleeping too long. Maybe he’s fucking lonely, without Prompto here. Maybe it’s sinking in: he’s totally fucked up here. If Noctis had actually bothered to sort through things before now… what? He’d be in bed with Prompto right now? Is that what he wants?

 

Noct closes his eyes and thinks about it, tries to pretend that he can feel Prompto’s warmth pressed up against his side, his best friend’s arm thrown around him, and. _Yeah._ He can picture it, and there’s a sudden burst of wanting that works through him, centered in his chest, making his lungs burn and his chest heave, and _whoa._ Okay. He knows what he wants, and he can picture it. Noctis pushes it aside and goes for his phone again to respond to his dad’s message.

 

‘btw dad, we should get dinner when you get home’

 

That’s all that Noctis types, but his fingers shake and he has to retype words several times as he slips up and autocorrect mangles them. He hovers over the ‘send’ button. Noct musters up all his resolve. And then he erases the message, retypes ‘home safe’, sends the text, puts his phone down, and rolls over again.

 

Maybe it’s just sexual frustration. He and Prompto have been messing around a lot, after all, and now it’s suddenly stopped. They haven’t been fucking, or touching each other, or kissing, or any of that. When Noct was in Tenebrae, even though he has his own hotel room, he’d been too stressed to work one out, and it felt _weird,_ jerking off when his dad’s on the other side of the wall. Funny, when he was a teenager, that shit hadn’t mattered, but now that he’s old enough to have his own private place, it’s just… it’s his _dad_ and it’s weird to think about that.

 

Noct tries to picture a woman in his mind. He debates opening his phone browser and bringing up some porn, but… too much effort. It’s obvious that things with Luna aren’t going anywhere, after that date-thing they had, but Noct uses her as a sort of baseline starting point. He tries to picture kissing a faceless girl, feeling soft breasts against his chest, and… no. Nothing. He’d rather be thinking of Prompto, and as soon as Noct lets his thoughts turn back to his best friend, bright eyes and freckled skin, it makes him shudder. He snakes his hand down his belly without even realizing it, creeping toward his cock, and…

 

No. _No._

 

This is just making things worse. Noctis sighs, and he rolls onto his belly, and he picks his phone up. He brings up Luna’s text again. He really should reply to her. Noct doesn’t know what to do. It’s funny, because when Noctis was in Tenebrae, telling his dad that he’s going to leave, it had seemed like he’d figured everything out. Come home, see Prompto, work things out with him. Work things out _together._ Talk to his dad, and figure things out there.

 

But instead, Prompto’s mad, and even though he’s trying really hard to take a step back, to be the best friend Noctis needs, Noct doesn’t know if it’s possible for Prompto to fill this particular role when they’re both trying to take a step back from all the _other_ stuff.

 

Noct doesn’t even know why he finally does it. Why he makes the decision. It’s stupid, really, because with the time change, it’s late in Tenebrae. He pulls Luna’s phone number up though, and he’s pressing his phone to his ear and leaning back against the bed, making the phone call before he can lose his nerve and hang up.

 

The phone rings a few times. Noctis is mildly relieved – she isn’t going to answer.

 

_“Noctis?”_

 

Fuck. Not so lucky.

 

“Hey, Luna,” Noct tries to sound casual, upbeat, like nothing is wrong. He’s absolutely failing, because Noctis is _never_ upbeat, so the mere fact that he’s trying to sound it is a telltale sign that everything is going horribly wrong.

 

There’s a silence on the other end of the phone, and then Luna cuts right through it. “Didn’t go so well, did it?”

 

“Horribly,” Noctis sighs, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling. The sun’s setting, and they’re into the early hours of twilight here. His curtains are mostly drawn, but there’s a little stripe of orange light shining through, and Noct’s examining every little detail, taking it all in.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luna’s voice is careful, and Noctis can hear the concern there. She _cares_ about him. It makes Noct feel horribly guilty because he’s calling her, late at night, and he’s unloading his dumb problems, after she’s had to deal with him just a couple of days earlier, too.

 

“No,” he says instantly, “not really. I just… wanted to talk to you.” Because Noctis keeps coming back, somehow, to the thought that he’s spent a whole lot of time talking about his own dumb problems, in vague terms, without ever talking about Luna. Noct doesn’t know if he even _knows_ his friends anymore. Prompto’s struggling with his own shit, that much is obvious. Ignis has a… thing with Aranea. Gladio’s moving on past all the dumb shit with his dad, the stuff Noct’s trying to process still. Hell, his baby sister is growing up, that much is apparent, from the party last night.

 

Luna’s teasing when she replies, “Me? What about me?” but it just drives the point home further.

 

“I dunno, Luna,” Noctis closes his eyes, rubbing at his temple. “I just… what’d you do today? You’re up late, right? It’s what, almost midnight there?”

 

There’s a pause, and Luna laughs a quiet little self-conscious laugh. “Yeah. I suppose it is late, isn’t it? I… it’s a little complicated, Noctis.”

 

“You’re keeping a lot of my secrets,” Noctis points out, though he feels a sinking in his stomach, and he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because Luna’s one of his longest, closest friends, and she’s got complications in her life too. Yet here she is, spending a good deal of her effort and time dealing with his shit, replying to his emails in a timely manner (when Noct can’t even return the favour) and answering her phone late at night. “All my stuff’s complicated, Luna. I understand complicated.”

 

“Do you?” Luna laughs again, more sincerely, still teasing. “Fine. I was on a date.”

Noctis blinks and he almost drops the phone. A date? Luna was on a _date?_ She didn’t even mention to Noct that she’d had a date when he was in Tenebrae. Hell, he was supposed to _be_ in Tenebrae tonight. He feels like a total fucking idiot, because he’d honestly hoped that maybe things would fall into place when he saw her and… well, Luna’s apparently never had that impression. She hadn’t needed to see Noctis again to realize that.

 

“What’s the lucky guy’s name?” he says instead, and he tries to keep it casual. He fails again.

 

“It was a last minute thing,” Luna tries to explain, the line crackling a little, “since you went home. Ah – anyway, his name is Nyx, we’ve been seeing each other on and off, it’s… I dunno, since when do _you_ care about this stuff, Noctis?”

She’s trying to tease, Noctis knows. Luna’s a lot fiercer than Noct remembers the small, frail girl in the hospital bed being all those years ago, but Noct doesn’t know if she has a mean bone in her body. Unfortunately, the banter hits _way_ too close to home, given everything that’s going on. Because she’s right. Noctis has never bothered with this shit before, has he? Luna’s never mentioned it because she’s assumed he doesn’t care. It’s not that he doesn’t _care,_ it’s just that… well, there’s a world outside of Noct’s little bubble, and until these past few days, he’s been utterly unaware of that.

 

“I care,” he tries to say, and his voice doesn’t sound entirely like his own. “So. How’d the date go.”

 

“It was nice. I think,” Luna sounds thoughtful though, “He’s a bit… different from my type. I think it’s a good thing.”

 

Luna delves into a little rant about her date, dinner and a movie, with this Nyx character driving her around on his motorcycle, and for some reason, Noctis just _can’t_ picture Luna clinging on to the back of a leather-clad punk kid with tattoos and a bike. He just _can’t_ reconcile it in his mind. The conversations serves as a distraction, yes, but not really the one Noctis was intending. Because now he’s not thinking about Prompto.

 

Instead, Noct’s thinking about all the friends he’s had, the ones he’s thought he knows. He doesn’t know anything at all. Luna’s grown up into a beautiful woman, and she’s… familiar, yes, but different, too, and when did this happen?

 

Luna finishes her story, something about sneaking into a party, climbing up onto the rooftop, and watching fireworks. She sounds like a bit of a lovesick rebel, giggling as she talks, and Noctis feels like he’s going to be sick.

 

“I’m sorry, Noct… I’ve been ranting, haven’t I? I haven’t even taken my makeup off yet, I’m sorry… I really need to go to bed,” Luna says, and she yawns heavily with the words. “I’m not being a good friend huh? We didn’t even get to you.”

“We don’t need to talk about me. We always talk about me,” Noct’s stomach is in knots, and he just wants to hang up the phone. “You sound tired. Go to bed.”

 

A pause. “Okay. Noct, you need to take care of yourself. And… we’ll talk about Prompto next time, you got it? No more hiding, mister. Just because you’re in Insomnia doesn’t mean I won’t chase you down and drag the truth out of you.”

 

That draws a little laugh at least, and a half-assed smile. “Got it, Luna. Night.”

 

Noctis ends the call, and he stuff his phone under his pillow, as if hiding from it will cut off all communication from the outside world.

 

He wants to go back to sleep, but he’s wide awake, and Noctis feels like complete and utter _shit._ He doesn’t want to be that awful friend, but he’s got a feeling he is. And it’s not just about Prompto. Of course, it’s primarily about Prompto – because he’s been fucking around with his best friend-- and suddenly, Noctis absolutely doesn’t _blame_ him for feeling angry. He deserves it. Hell, why is Luna being so nice to him? Why have any of his friends bothered with him?

 

Noctis crawls out of bed, and he drags the blankets off the bed. He scoots across the room to his computer desk, and he turns his machine on. He absolutely doesn’t want to face the world right now, because the reality of the situation is hitting, and it’s hitting hard. Noctis will need to face it, someday, but for now, he plugs his headset in, and he logs into a grindy MMO that he and Gladio low-key play from time to time. He opens his music app, blares something mindless and a little depressing, and Noct curls up and decides he’ll just play video games for a while, until he falls asleep.

  
Four energy drinks and twelve hours later, the sun’s rising and Noct’s still staring at his screen with bleary eyes. He heard Prompto come home at some point, and he heard him go to bed. He hears him get up, too, to go for his morning run. Noctis ignores it all though, because he doesn’t think he can face his best friend, or any of his friends, or any of the fucking world. He could focus his energy on something productive. Call his friends. Apologize. Call his dad. Hell, if he’s going to retreat into himself, he could be studying or doing something productive.

 

Why would Noctis wanna do that though? Real life is hard, and he’s much happier playing video games. Or so he tells himself. Really, he’s just trying not to curl up with the little stuffed toy Prompto gave him all those years ago and cry, because he has no idea who he is, or who he wants to be. He just doesn’t really want to be Noctis right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the 100k club ludic, holy hell, i can't believe we're here. thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with me this long, i can't even believe i'm still writing this.
> 
> 1\. this was a slow chapter. noct's gotta hit rock bottom here, and he's... pretty close. he's realizing he is not a good friend. some people drink when they hit rock bottom. noctis shuts himself in and plays video games and doesn't take care of himself... in case you were wondering where this is going. it'll be a few slow chapters as a warning. 
> 
> 2\. awkward promptis interactions woooooo. i got a lot of interesting feedback about prom's characterization last chapter and... he's struggling guys, ok? he's not having an easy time with this, and i know we're not getting a whole lot of input into what he's feeling but. he's trying. he's holding his ground, but he doesn't wanna abandon his best friend. i hope that comes across here. 
> 
> 3\. lunyx yasssssssssssss
> 
> 4\. the usual plugs, blah blah, i've been posting a lot of prompto/promptis drabbles on my tumblr @destatree in honor of prom's DLC coming out next week so~ <3 comments & kudos are so appreciated and loved and i'm sorry if i don't reply to your comment, i try, but i'm balancing THREE!! THREEEEEE!! fanfics now. including celebrity noct AU from hell which is the exact opposite of ludic i swear. anyway. yall are fantastic, thank you. <3 OH ALSO. for the people who drew me art?!?!??!?! holy shit you guys are AMAZING and i'm seriously floored. omg. just. yes.


	23. Something I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is existing in a strange grey area where it’s all twilight and shadows all the time.

Depression’s a hell of a thing to deal with. It’s a killer, honestly. Noctis has been depressed, in the past. Before he met Prompto? Yeah, looking back, it’s easy for Noct to realize just what a mess he’d been. He’s proud of himself though, because he moved past it. Maybe there’s a bit more credit to his best friend than is entirely fair, but that’s just how it is. Noct’s dad tried to get him to take the pills, and he refused, and he tried to get him to talk to someone, but that idea was laughable. It’s something Noct’s pulled himself out of with his own two hands and a friend having his back, for one.

 

The funny thing though, is that depression is a bit like addiction. It never entirely fades away. Even in the best of days, even when it’s under control, manageable, when the world seems like it’s finally going right, it’s there, waiting, trying to sink its claws in. And sometimes it takes hold in a moment of weakness, one that Noctis doesn’t even realize. Sometimes, it’s manifested and taken hold before it even occurs to a person that it’s happened.

 

The first day, Noctis just holes up and plays video games. He gets halfway to the level cap in the MMO he’s playing. He’s picked a paladin-type character because there’s something really fun about waving a magic-infused sword around. They should give him an option to teleport in the middle of combat. That would be really awesome.

 

He just needs a bit of time to himself, Noctis decides, firmly. He’s been so stressed out about everything that’s happened, that he just wants to forget for a while. So he plays his game, and he hears Prompto come and go, and once he thinks that Prompto pauses outside his room, in a lull in his music when he’s stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders. Noctis hears the floorboards outside his bedroom door ache and creak, like someone’s standing there, shifting their weight back and forth and debating whether to knock. Then there’s just footsteps though, and silence, and Noctis doesn’t know why his heart aches so much at the realization that nobody’s coming to drag him out of this.

 

He orders a pizza, with the instructions to just leave it outside and send him a text when it’s there. The delivery guy follows the instructions to a T, and Noct still spends a good few minutes standing in front of his door, mentally screaming at himself about what he’ll do if Prompto’s out there. His best friend’s in his room though, with the door closed, and Noctis makes the dash from his bedroom to the front door, snatches up the pizza, and retreats again. He should offer some of it to Prompto, but Noctis, at some point, turned his phone off and hid it underneath his bed, and he knows if he turns it on, he won’t be able to stop staring at the screen, obsessing over the reply he’s going to get. It’s better to just not give in at all.

 

He eats a single slice of pizza, decides he’s not hungry, and closes the box and shoves it behind his computer monitor on his desk. He’ll eat it later. Eventually, he decides to take a nap, and the world numbs away for a couple of hours, though Noctis can’t exactly remember if he actually sleeps or not, or if his mind just blanks out. Keeping track of the time is hard.

 

\---

 

Somewhere between day two and whatever comes next, the lines get blurry. Noct’s got a headache, but he doesn’t want to stop staring at his computer screen. The moment he looks away, the moment he stops stimulating his mind with something _else,_ the thoughts all come crashing down on him. Noctis feels pleasantly empty when he’s playing video games. More than that, he sometimes feels a strange sense of satisfaction. Grinding out a dumb achievement means nothing in the real world, yeah, but it’s not that bitter-tinted half-assed sense of achievement that Noctis gets when he does something his dad wants him to do, or when he pleases Ignis or Prompto or Gladio. There’s no jumping through hoops to try and earn a scrap of praise from someone. This is just making _Noctis_ happy.

 

He hits level cap in his dumb game, and Noct’s second monitor off to the right has a whole bunch of tabs open on what to do next, how to gear up his dumb character and what content to be doing, and how to get there. There’s professions, and collectible gear, and mounts and pets, and a whole lot of achievements to do. It’s all horribly mindless.

 

Eventually, Noctis hears Prompto head off to work, or maybe he’s going out with friends. A thought that Noctis realizes comes with a heavy pull of bitterness, since apparently Prompto is better friends with Noct’s friends than Noct himself is. He wonders if they’re all talking about him. Maybe. Either way, when Prompto leaves, he goes to the bathroom and splashes some water on his face. Noctis should absolutely shower, but he doesn’t quite think he can muster the energy. He stands in the bathroom and stares at the shower, and the list of tasks adds up in his mind. Changing out of his clothes. Turning the water on. Standing there. Washing. Drying off. Finding new clothing to wear.

 

Noctis opts to down a couple of aspirin instead, to help with the headache. He examines himself in the mirror, and he realizes how tired he looks. Caffeine will fix that. He ventures into the kitchen for another soda. Noctis grabs a box of poptarts out of the cupboard, too, and then he retreats to try and eat another slice of pizza and nibble at the corner of the pastry.

 

\---

 

Rinse and repeat.

 

\---

 

At some point, Prompto knocks on Noct’s door and asks if he’s okay. Noctis reassures he is. Prompto asks if he wants space, and Noct says no, this is fine.

 

It’s not fine, and maybe he does need space. Or maybe he needs a hug. Noctis doesn’t know which. Prompto leaves him alone though, so that they can keep walking on eggshells around each other.

 

\---

 

“Noct,” Prompto’s knocking on Noct’s door again.

  
Again.

 

Noctis sighs, and he tugs his headset off one ear, “what’s up, Prom?”

 

Noct’s voice is rough, a little gravelly, and thick with exhaustion. His eyes hurt a lot. He probably needs to sleep, but every time he climbs into bed and pulls the blankets up over his head, it’s like something’s turned on in his chest. It’s a gripping anxiety. It’s his mind, replaying Prompto’s words over and over again. Noct’s mind can’t let go of any of it, and it doesn’t stop at Prompto either, because Noctis is scared. He’s losing all of his friendships, he’s pretty sure. All of his friends have lives that he knows nothing about, and Noctis is growing up, and how long until they all fade away into the background, and it’s just him, alone?

 

So he can’t sleep. So Noctis drags himself back out of bed, and he sits in front of his computer and browses his Steam library for another game, or inevitably starts playing that MMO again.

 

And now, Prompto’s knocking. He was just bothering him earlier – Noct’s stomach clenches and he bites at his lower lip, because Prompto should just leave him alone. Noctis is tired, and he doesn’t want to see Prompto, not right now. Not when it still hurts too much.

 

Prompto opens the door a crack and pokes his head in, and Noctis keeps his eyes glued to his computer screen. “Hey,” he says slowly, quietly, “it’s Sunday night already, Noct. You should probably go to bed, we’ve got class in the morning. I… don’t think you’ve been sleeping much, huh?”

 

Noctis blinks. He wants to ignore Prompto’s words, but… Sunday night? No, it’s like, Friday at the latest. _Maybe_ Saturday. His eyes flicker down to the corner of the screen, and… no, it’s the 29th. It’s been a full four days. Fall break is over, and school starts again in the morning. It’s almost midnight, too. Fuck. When did that happen?

 

“Right,” Noctis says, and he lifts a hand to his head, rubbing at his eyes, “Night then, Prom. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’m fine.”

 

“Noctis…” Prompto’s voice hitches a little and it pulls at Noct’s heart in a way that makes him want to scream, or cry, and he doesn’t know which. His shoulders shake from the effort of it all. “… you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Fine.” Noct’s voice hardens immediately, with a sharp intake of breath and eyes that steady and focus again on the screen in front of him.

 

He’s not okay. Noctis isn’t okay, and he’s silently screaming that. More than anything, he wants to ask Prompto to come in, to get into bed with him and just _hold_ him. It’s not a sex thing. It’s probably not even a weird feelings thing. It’s Noctis, feeling isolated and scared and realizing he’s been sitting at his computer desk for four days with barely any sleep and barely anything to eat. He’s gotten up for bathroom breaks, and he washed his face that one time, but that had felt like a massive amount of effort. There’s a stack of soda cans and energy drinks on his desk and in the trash bin between the desk and the wall. Noct’s eaten half the box of poptarts, and he’s finally finished off the pizza, even though it’s stale and hard and more a congealed mess of grease by the time he ate the last slice.

 

“Okay,” Prompto says hesitantly, and Noctis wishes that he could just open his mouth and communicate how badly he needs… something. Because the feeling is lost on Noctis. He doesn’t know what he needs.

 

He’s yearning for something. His heart is aching. It’s a deep, desperate feeling, one of absolute despair and utter loneliness. It’s centered right in his chest, and it spreads in a deep throbbing to the back of his mind, all through his body, and somehow, he can feel it to the very tips of his tingling fingertips. Noctis doesn’t know how to put words to that though. He only knows that something is missing.

 

“I’m in my room if you need me, you know that, right? I’m your best friend…”

 

Best friends. Noctis is pretty sure he makes a soft, bitter noise, and the intense feeling of emptiness in his chest blossoms into some dark, ugly thing that makes him want to lash out. Noct shifts in his chair and tries to sink down into the back of it, to make himself invisible.

 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Prom, okay?” Noctis says quietly, and he probably won’t, but hopefully that will make things go away.

 

“Okay,” Prompto takes a step back, and Noctis doesn’t feel the relief he expected, “night, Noctis.”

 

Eventually, Noctis crawls into bed. He realizes he hasn’t studied at all, and there’s a different sort of panic clenching at his chest as he pulls his textbooks out and starts flipping through. Partway through reading a chapter about depreciating fixed assets (accounting sucks, a _lot,_ if he’s ever in charge of his dad’s business, Noctis is absolutely never touching any of this shit), Noctis realizes his dad’s flight landed a few hours ago, and he hasn’t bothered to check in on him.

 

So, finally, Noctis is forced to dig his phone out. It takes more energy than it should to roll down over the side of the bed and fumble until he finds his phone. It’s turned off, and there’s a jolt heavy in Noct’s stomach as he stares at the start screen while he powers the phone back on. He swipes through, and there’s a fair few text messages over the past few days. Noctis should feel guilty, but instead there’s a strange elation, a ridiculous giddiness when he sees that Prompto’s sent him a text. Noct’s stomach is doing flips when he opens the messages.

 

It’s just a video of a cute dog, with a ‘cheer you up?’ caption and a heart-face emoji, but it’s enough. It makes Noctis smile the first smile he’s felt in days, and it’s tugging his face in weird ways, pulling at muscles that he hasn’t even realized are stretched and exhausted from looking impassive and depressed for so long.

 

‘thx prom’ Noctis texts back.

 

He has a couple text messages from Ignis, ‘just checking in’, and one from Gladio, that’s along the lines of ‘hey get your head out of your ass, we’re worried about you’ that’s just the right mixture of irritation and concern that only Gladio can ever seem to manage. There’s a text from Luna, too, asking him to call again sometime soon. And maybe he actually _will,_ but not right now; it’s late, and Noctis just hurts.

 

There’s a text from his dad too, a few hours earlier, saying that his flight landed safely. ‘dad is back in insomnia! Let me know when you want to talk, noct, we’ll have dinner. Btw send me pics’

 

It’s a stupid text and it makes Noctis smile again, too, even though his stomach is doing flips already at the thought of talking to his dad. What will he tell him? He’ll need to make up a good excuse about why he left, because the truth is just absolutely inconceivable. There’s no way Noctis can come clean about all this. Maybe he was close to doing it, back in Tenebrae, but too much has happened in such a short span of time.

 

Noctis leans back against his pillow, and the longer he stays here, staring up at his ceiling, the more his thoughts tug back to that text Prompto sent. His best friend’s trying to cheer him up. Is that a sign that there’s something between them still? Is there more going on than Noctis thinks? Or is it just a genuine attempt to cheer him up?

 

Prompto hasn’t responded to the text, either, and Noctis tells himself it’s late. He forces himself not to check his best friend’s social media accounts to see if he’s active there and just ignoring Noct’s message. Nevermind that Noct’s still doing the same to his friends, and he _knows_ it. Fuck, this is all so goddamn messed up, and at the end of the day, four days later, Noctis has to go back to being Noctis, and he’s still not happy.

 

Depression’s a hell of a beast, and it’s holding on hard and rough, invisible claws raking right through.

 

\---

 

To his credit, Noctis makes it to class, but only because he shares his Monday class with Prompto, and Noct knows that if he doesn’t get up and go, his best friend’s going to be pounding on his door and dragging him out, and Noct really doesn’t want to deal with Prompto seeing just how bad it’s gotten. The way the air in his room is warm and smells stale, or the crumbs of food and discarded pizza boxes and trash…

 

So he beats Prompto at it. Noctis takes a shower – and he _really_ doesn’t want to, but he smells bad – and he skips breakfast and leaves early, so that he doesn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of walking to campus with his best friend. There’s the urge to just skip out of the apartment and to go hide in the library or a café, but Noct’s also aware that if he stops showing to class, Prompto will get Ignis involved, and his dad by extension. He’s just gotta keep the act up.

 

Noct’s pretty sure he hasn’t slept. He’s existing in a strange grey area where it’s all twilight and shadows all the time. He almost contemplates stealing some of Prompto’s makeup, but ultimately, Noct doesn’t care enough. He also doesn’t know how to apply any of that shit very well, and their skin tones don’t match at all. He has dark circles under his eyes. He stops at the local coffee shop and actually orders an Americano, loading it up with sugar and cream, and Noctis forces himself to suck it down in hopes that it’ll keep him awake. It tastes disgusting.

 

He gets to the lecture hall early, and finds a place in the back, his sweater tugged up over his face. When Prompto shows up, five minutes before the class starts, the room is already mostly full. Noct feels guilty when he sees his best friend looking around for him – but Prompto gives up, and sits down in their usual spot.

 

Noctis waits for the professor to start lecturing before he whips out his phone and texts, ‘im here b4 u tell iggy im not. Back corner.’ And yeah, it’s a dick move, because now Prompto can’t come join him without causing a disruption. His best friend’s head whips back – Prompto’s not good at being subtle – and their eyes meet, and Noct sees a strange emotion flash between them.

 

It’s definitely his imagination.

 

‘u look like shit’ Prompto texts back, ‘noct wtf is going on?’

 

‘u tell me,’ Noctis texts, and he grits his teeth and very pointedly puts his phone away. He’s really fucking proud of himself when he feels it vibrating in his pocket and he ignores it. At some point, eyes glazed over and mind numb to it all, Noctis drifts off during the lecture, and he only wakes up when the guy sitting in front of him gently leans over the seat and shakes his shoulder to let him know that class is over.

 

Prompto’s already gone. Noctis is both relieved and miserable about the fact.

 

Monday’s class is three hours long, and on normal days, Noct tends to try and make it to the library afterwards. Today though, he’s definitely planning on going straight home. Maybe crawling back into bed, or, more likely, he’s going to hop back onto the game he’s playing.

 

Today though, as Noctis drags his feet climbing up the stairs to leave the lecture hall, there’s a familiar face waiting in the foyer outside. It’s impossible to miss Gladio, of course, because he’s tall enough to tower over pretty much anyone else. He’s got his arms crossed, leaning against the wall and watching the people trickle out of the room. Noct’s one of the last, and he’s running a hand through his hair and just trying to keep his feet moving, one in front of the other.

 

“Hey,” Gladio says, taking a step forward, away from the wall, and Noct’s stomach drops.

 

“Did Prompto call you?” Noctis sighs heavily. He doesn’t want to deal with this, he wants to go home.

 

“Naw,” Gladio replies easily, “but he told me what room your class was in when I asked him. This is all me though. We’re hanging out for a bit.”

 

“I don’t want to go out,” Noctis feels his heart sinking in his chest. He doesn’t want to argue with Gladio, and he knows his friend absolutely won’t take no for an answer here. It’s going to cause a scene unless he agrees.

 

“You don’t think you do,” Gladio says. He throws an arm around Noct’s shoulders, and the gesture isn’t a rough one, but it makes Noct’s legs tremble a little and threaten to give out. Fuck, he’s tired. And he’s _hungry_ too. Why does he feel so weak? “I know you, Noct. You’re stuck in your head. You ain’t gonna listen to Iggy right now, he’s too soft on you. You don’t know Aranea well enough, and she’s kind of a bitch, anyway. And you’re too hurt by Prom, huh?”

 

Noctis flushes and he looks down. “I’m not answering any of that.”

 

“Don’t have to,” Gladio’s voice is serious, and there’s an edge to it that Noctis recognizes. He isn’t getting out of this. “I already know the answer. Suck it up, it’s tough love time from your big brother. You’re coming back to my place for the night, and we’re gonna knock some sense into your head. Got it?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis sighs dully. “Got it.”

 

The beast that’s latched into Noct’s heart is angry, clawing and roaring, and trying to convince him desperately to go back home, to curl up and keep dealing with it the way he has. It hasn’t counted on the fact though, that even if Noct’s friends think he’s being a selfish asshole, they’ve been by his side all along.

 

“Good,” Gladio grins, “didn’t wanna have to knock you out and drag you back myself. Don’t doubt me though, I would if I had to.”

 

Noctis manages a little smile, even though he wants to run away and scream. There’s a tiny part of him that’s flooded with relief, because he doesn’t _really_ want to be alone. Not any more He’s spent too much of his life scared and confused and alone. He nods at Gladio, and he takes a small, shaky step forward, leaning a little heavily against his friend, but mostly holding his own weight.

 

Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. Fuuuuck. This has been the hardest thing I've written in Ludic thus far. I stepped away and cried for a bit halfway through this. I didn't intend to update so soon, because I knew I was getting to the rough stuff, but my day today has been... very strange, and very rough cuz i'm dealing with feels of my own, and I felt the inspiration hit. i just had to get it out. i struggle with these feelings personally at times, even years after i've 'gotten better' so hopefully this just doesn't come across as melodramatic shit. 
> 
> welcome to your late teens/early 20s noctis. 
> 
> anyway, the usual. thanks for the kudos/comments, i somehow made it to the front page of FFXV AO3 for hits/kudos and i'm in awe. i'm on tumblr at the usual (destatree) and i also made a twitter account @thatdest where i rant mostly about how awful writing is, lmao. thank you. <3


	24. Two Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you gonna make me talk about things?” Noctis asks, voice quiet. 
> 
> “Me? Make you talk?” Gladio laughs a little, and the sensation of it vibrates through Noctis, he’s pressed so close. “No world exists, Noct, where any of us can make you talk."

It’s been a while since Noct’s been to Gladio’s place. Honestly, he can’t even remember when he was last here – probably before the move. For some reason, Noctis remembers it being bigger than it is.

 

Despite being a massive guy though, Gladio’s always been kinda quiet, reserved, private about his personal life. He’s got a little townhouse, with a garage that’s been converted into a personal training space. The living quarters themselves are upstairs, and it’s small and cozy and well-lived in. Noct remembers being so impressed that his older friend, practically a big brother to him, has carved out his own little space in life, the last time he saw the place.

 

Right now, Noct’s realizing, yet again, that Gladio’s so different from the exterior he shows to the world. His friend’s got a massive collection of books, his bookshelf overflowing, and unlike Ignis, who just needs to know _everything,_ it’s all fantasy and romance novels, all purely for pleasure. He’s snuggled back on Gladio’s couch, the leather exceptionally well worn, and again, it makes Noctis feel like he’s very much in someone else’s space, somewhere that he doesn’t quite fit in.

 

“Hey. When did you last eat?” Gladio asks, tugging Noctis from his little self-contained place in his mind for a moment.

 

“I, uh…” Noctis frowns. What’s the last thing he’s eaten? He thinks maybe a poptart, the night before? Did he have breakfast? He can’t remember, and that’s a surprisingly upsetting realization. “I think I ate breakfast,” and Noct’s pretty sure that’s a lie, but he doesn’t want Gladio realizing just how bad it is.

 

“You _think?”_ Gladio sighs. Noct sits up and peeks his head over the edge of the couch. Gladio’s rummaging through the fridge, and he pulls out a Tupperware container, opens it, scoops out whatever veggies are mixed in directly into the trash, and throws it into the microwave.

 

“If you can’t take care of yourself, it’s only going to make it worse, you know,” Gladio’s only half-assed lecturing though, his voice more concerned than anything. Noctis doesn’t reply. The microwave beeps, and Gladio pulls out the container, stirs it around with a fork, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, and brings the food over to the couch.

 

Noctis eyes the meal skeptically. “No offense, Gladio, but can’t we just order pizza or something?” His stomach is doing flips at the mere thought of eating, and Noct just wants to close his eyes and curl up and go away.

 

“You need _real_ food, Noct,” Gladio’s response is gentle, but firm. “I’m not some amazing chef like Iggy, but it’s just chicken and rice. I picked out the broccoli. It’ll be easy on your stomach and it’ll make you feel better. Promise.”

 

Noctis isn’t getting out of this. He grumbles a little and pokes his fork through the food. His stomach roils and churns, but there’s a little pang of hunger there, too. “Probably won’t be able to eat much,” he confesses, and he has to duck his head down, more than a little embarrassed.

 

“I ain’t judging. Just try,” Gladio settles down heavily on the couch next to him, and Noctis instinctively leans closer. Gladio’s presence has always been a hulking, comforting one. He’s all muscle, nearly a good foot taller than Noctis himself, and their relationship has always been a little rocky, but lately, it’s settled into something comfortable and familiar.

 

Noctis surprises himself when he downs the whole meal. And it’s pretty basic, just chicken seasoned with some rosemary and thyme and some brown rice, but it’s probably one of the best meals he’s ever eaten. He downs the entire bottle of water in one steady gulp, too. Gladio arches a brow, but chooses to say absolutely nothing, there, and Noctis is both horribly embarrassed, and incredibly grateful.

 

Gladio lifts his feet up to rest on the coffee table and flicks the television on. It’s mostly just background noise. Noctis is horrendously grateful that Gladio lets him curl up closer, tentatively resting a head on his friend’s shoulder. He’s been craving human contact, he realizes, and even though he’s still a jumbled mess, completely unsure of himself, lost in the fact that he doesn’t _deserve_ any of this, the mere comfort of another presence, of food heavy in his belly, it’s almost enough to make him feel human again.

 

Gladio’s got a trashy affinity for reality TV. _That’s_ something Noctis knows about his friend, and he remembers making fun of Gladio for it, when they were still teenagers. They’re watching a show about people picking out houses, and naturally the couple has a completely unrealistic list of essential features, a low budget, and seemingly contradicting views. Right now, said couple is arguing, because one of them wants a huge yard and the other one wants something ‘low maintenance.’ The woman is having a meltdown on-camera, too.

 

“They suck at talking to each other,” Noctis mumbles, his cheek pressed firm against Gladio’s bicep.

 

“Yep,” Gladio laughs, “pretty sure they purposely pick the most ridiculous people they can find for these shows.”

 

Or maybe they play it up and tell them to be overdramatic. Noct wants to assume that, but he knows what it’s like to be absolute trash at talking about his feelings. Everything’s blowing up on his face, and he isn’t in a reality TV show, after all. Some days, he feels like he exists in some story, like his life isn’t his own, but… when it comes down to it, he’s just Noctis.

 

“Are you gonna make me talk about things?” Noctis asks, voice quiet, as they go back to aimlessly watching the show.

 

“Me? Make you talk?” Gladio laughs a little, and the sensation of it vibrates through Noctis, he’s pressed so close. “No world exists, Noct, where any of us can _make_ you talk. I can try and talk some sense into you, but if I force anything, you’re just gonna close yourself away from us even more.”

 

The knowledge that Gladio isn’t going to force anything is both a relief, and a heavy blow to Noct’s heart. Maybe he wants someone to force the information out of him. Maybe he’s finally ready to open up and talk. But… well. Noctis knows that the second anyone tries to _make_ him do anything, he goes into defensive mode, he shuts down and he closes off, and maybe that’s why he’s having a meltdown now.

 

“I kinda want to talk,” Noctis admits. He draws away, just a little, lifting his eyes so that he can look at Gladio. His friend’s pretending to watch the show, but he’s not subtle, and there’s no hiding the way his attention is absolutely focused on Noctis. Their eyes meet, and Noct almost loses his nerve, but Gladio smiles an oddly protective, brotherly smile, and somehow, that’s encouraging, solidifying the little bundle of resolve Noct’s nurturing inside.

 

“I’m terrified though,” Noctis admits. Somehow, saying the words aloud make it… a little easier. Not easy, still, not by far, but. “If you all know what a shitty person I am, you’re not going to want anything to do with me. I just… feel _young.”_

“You are young,” Gladio cuts the volume on the TV, hitting the mute button on the controller, and he turns in his seat, so that he’s facing Noctis entirely. “Got some bad news for you, kid. You don’t just ‘grow up’ one day. It’s not about moving out and starting college and suddenly being an adult.”

 

“For everyone else, it is,” Noctis insists, frowning, looking down. This conversation is stupid. Everything about this is _dumb,_ he shouldn’t have tried opening up. The demons living in his head are laughing at him, digging their claws in, and the flight instinct is growing strong. It’s telling Noctis that he can jump up and grab his stuff and be gone, that Gladio’s outright admitted he’s not going to force anything. He’ll let Noctis leave, and he can go home, lick his wounds, curl back up in front of his game, anything to keep the bitter thoughts out—

 

“Everyone else struggles with it,, too,” Gladio’s voice cuts through those thoughts though, and a hand’s pressed hard on Noct’s arm, gripping him, anchoring him to the spot, as if Gladio senses just what Noct’s about to do. “I’ve got three years on you, Noct. I was there. My struggle was different, yeah, because I’m hard on myself in different ways. You aren’t alone though. You aren’t _unworthy.”_

 

Noct wants to cling to the words. He wants to believe them. He can’t though, not entirely, but it plants a little seed of something – hope, maybe? – in his mind that he’ll get there. That eventually, he’ll look back on this and laugh.

 

“Hope so,” Noctis sighs. “… half convinced you all hate me now. That Prompto’s… told you guys everything.”

 

Gladio shifts his weight around a little, and Noctis groans. No immediate response from his friend means just _that,_ that Prompto has talked about him. That other people _know_ that something’s happening. There’s a little rise of panic in his belly. What if they know _everything?_ Again, Noctis wants to run. He can’t though, because Gladio’s still got a hold on him, and maybe, just maybe, he wants someone to know. Maybe it’s easier, if it all comes out in the open.

 

“Iggy and I thought it’d be a good idea to take him out drinking,” Gladio confesses, “didn’t realize he’s such a damn _talker_ when he’s drunk.”

 

“Fuck,” Noctis sighs, “you guys know everything, don’t you?”

 

“I know enough,” Gladio says, the words themselves a little evasive. “I know you two have your issues to work out. Iggy’s suspected it for ages. He wanted us to keep quiet and stay out of it, to let you guys work it out on your own. Dunno if that was the right move or not. You’re both a mess over this, now.”

 

“Did you know?” Noctis is digging his fucking hole deeper, and he knows it. He wants to back out of this conversation entirely. But somehow, it’s still just such a relief, to be able to _talk_ this out, with someone who isn’t Prompto. He can’t really talk about this with Prompto, because they’re being best friends again, and best friends don’t talk about the fact that they’ve got feelings for each other, or that they’ve been having casual sex.

 

“I had suspicions,” Gladio admits, “Since you went poking around, asking about me ‘n Iggy.”

 

Noct lifts his head. He can’t help it. His eyes are wide and he feels so fucking vulnerable, but he has to get a good look at Gladio, here. “Was that stuff true?”

 

Gladio meets his gaze, amber eyes locking on blue. It’s a long, intense gaze, one that’s a bit scrutinizing, and it makes Noctis feel small, naked. “Yeah. It was,” he admits, after a moment. “You really think I’d just be messing with you?”

 

Noct feels something like a headache coming on. Two of his oldest friends, involved like that, and openly talking about it, like it was nothing? Why does this seem to be so easy for everyone else? “And it just… ended?” He can’t quite comprehend it, because that’s how things have been with Prompto – just ended, abruptly – and he’s an absolute mess about it.

 

Gladio shrugs. “Honestly, I was more into it than he was. But we’ve been friends so long that I cut my losses. Wasn’t worth losing the friendship over.” As casually as he says the words, though, Noctis gets the feeling that there’s more emotion behind it than Gladio’s letting on. There’s a subtle shift in his body language, and Noct isn’t emotionally intelligent enough, or _nearly_ good enough at reading people, to quite figure it out. But he senses _something_ is at least a bit different.

 

“Is that what I’m supposed to do with Prompto? Cut my losses and keep being friends?”

 

Noctis wishes someone had the answer. He looks up at Gladio, hopeful, wishing that he’ll get an answer that doesn’t come.

 

“If that’s what you wanna do,” Gladio shrugs. “It’s up to you two.”

 

It’s up to them. Noctis isn’t quite sure if he believes that. He thinks he knows what he wants. Hell, he’s _pretty sure,_ finally, that he knows what he wants. Prompto doesn’t believe that, though. And maybe Noct hasn’t given his best friend any reason whatsoever to believe in him. Maybe it’s a matter of proving himself. He doesn’t really know how to do that, of course, but…

 

“Gladio,” Noct says slowly, pointedly, and he doesn’t want to look at his friend. He can’t look up. He’s staring down at the couch, at the swirls of ink that line Gladio’s arm, swirling up to his shoulder. He remembers the day his friend got the that first session of ink done. Noctis had been sixteen, Gladio nineteen, and he’d seemed _infinitely_ cool. Like the coolest, most mature, _adult_ person in the whole world. Noctis, at nineteen, feels absolutely nothing like that. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

 

Gladio shifts, and he throws a casual arm around Noct’s shoulders, in a half-embrace, half-playful, brotherly banter type of thing. “Sometimes it can’t be fixed, Noct. Sometimes people just want different things. And sometimes you can want the same thing, but… still just be too different to make it work. You’ll never know if you don’t try though.”

 

Noctis knows what he wants. Or he thinks he does. He doesn’t know what he is, though. And that’s the scary part, reconciling it all.

 

“Gladio, d’you think I’m…”

 

Noctis can’t say it. He trails off, and he lets himself try and wrap his mind around things instead. Sometimes it just doesn’t work. So why bother? Why break either of their hearts any more than they already have? Maybe Gladio’s right. Maybe going back to being friends is the best way to do it. Noctis is pretty sure he can get over this. He can move on. He doesn’t need to fuck it up any more than he already has.

 

“Never mind,” Noctis says quickly, when Gladio gestures for him to continue speaking. “It’s nothing.”

 

He half expects Gladio to keep pushing, but there’s a finality to Noct’s tone as he locks it all away, as he crawls back into his mind to let that particular fear die there, for now at least. Maybe his friend knows him better than he thinks, because he doesn’t press it any further, instead reaches over to unmute the show. It’s the middle of the next episode, but it’s not exactly the type of programming with a storyline, or anything that they need to follow, and they pick up right wherever it’s at.

 

“You staying the night?” Gladio asks, and it’s not really a question at all.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, and he tells himself that it’s because he has no choice. Really, though, he just doesn’t want to be alone in his bedroom again. And he absolutely doesn’t want to face Prompto right now. “Got a class in the morning though.”

 

“I’ll drop you off at school. We can swing by your place for you to grab your stuff if we have to.”

 

\---

 

“Do me a favour?” Gladio asks as Noct’s got his hand on the door handle. The car’s idling in a temporary parking spot near the building Noct’s morning class is in. It’s really goddamn early. Noctis hates his early morning class just as much as he did the first week of class. Maybe even more, now that he’s dreading seeing Prompto there.

 

“Depends on the favour,” Noctis sighs, eyeing Gladio warily. Mornings are not his friend, and the ‘all natural’ energy drink Gladio offered him tastes like shit and is not doing the job.

 

“I know that a night dealing with me going big brother mode isn’t gonna fix things,” Gladio grins carelessly as he speaks, but there’s a weight to the words. “Any time you need someone to talk to, Noctis. You call me. Or… call someone.”

 

“Fine,” Noctis says, even though he’s not sure he actually will.

 

“And do one thing a day that you don’t want to do. If you’re gonna sit around and play video games, fine, but… get up and make a meal. Or take a shower. Or go for a walk. Just one thing.”

 

Noctis doesn’t see the point. In all honesty, he’s already slowly retreating back to the place where he was before. He’s got to struggle through this class. He didn’t sleep that well the previous night. Gladio’s idea of a spare bedroom is a futon pulled out and set up in his office, and it’s decently comfortable for a futon, but it hurts Noct’s back, makes the old injuries flare up. Still, it’s better sleep than he’s had in days. Noct’s mind is taking him in tricky places though, and he’s got a desperate, restless itch to get back to his video game. He just has to survive his two classes today, and then he can go home and be _alone._

He doesn’t want to be alone, not really. So why does he crave it so much?

 

“Fine,” Noctis agrees, because Gladio’s still staring, and Noct realizes he’s just been sitting here in relative silence. “One thing a day.”

 

“Good. Try not to fall asleep during class, huh?”

 

Noctis climbs out of the car and slings his bag over his shoulder. “That I can’t promise.”

 

\----

 

Surprisingly, Noctis doesn’t fall asleep during class.

 

Even more surprisingly, that first class, the one he shares with Prompto, he waves down his best friend when he sees him wander in. Noctis mostly expects Prompto to pointedly ignore him, just like he’d done the day before. But Prompto comes over, and Noct’s heart does an evil little flip.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says, very carefully sitting himself down, though he leaves the middle seat between them empty, making a point of placing his bag there, even though they’re those folding seats where stuff usually just falls down the center hole and gets stuck underneath anyway.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, and he manages a half-smile. He’s pretty sure he still looks like shit, but he took a shower at Gladio’s, at least. And had a piece of toast for breakfast, even though it was some nasty low carb shit, he covered it in enough peanut butter that it mostly tasted okay. Mostly.

 

“So,” Prompto smiles back, a tentative one. It’s a start though. “You uh, feeling better?”

 

Noctis isn’t sure if he is. He doesn’t really know how to answer that. “A bit,” he settles with saying, slowly, though he tips his head to the side, and just for a moment, he caches his best friend’s eye. “I’ll get there, I guess.”

 

Prompto looks like he’s going to say something. The silence between them isn’t their usual comfortable one, but at least it’s not outright awkward. It just… _is._ His best friend is chewing on his lower lip, and Noct’s got his arms crossed, tapping at his forearm with his thumb. Nervous little gestures, all around. They’re maybe on the edge of something, of making some sort of a… reconciliation? Is that the word? They haven’t really been _fighting,_ not officially.

 

The professor chooses that moment to walk in, though, and Prompto laughs a little awkwardly and snaps his attention forward, and Noct’s a little glad for the distraction. That seat between them, somehow, is so much distance, and Noctis doesn’t know if they’ll be able to cross it. But at least it’s a start.

 

\---

 

Prompto’s at work when Noctis gets home from class later. He’s relieved to find the apartment empty, even though the cat meows irritably and butts against his legs as he dumps his bag on the floor inside his bedroom.

 

His room is a total fucking mess. Noctis sighs. He opens his window to air out the stale air. The thought of picking up any of the trash seems like a daunting effort though, so Noctis just stacks the empty soda cans in a row in an attempt to make it look a little less pathetic. Realistically, the whole ‘cleaning up’ process really just requires him to get a trashbag out of the kitchen and throw everything in there. At least that would be a good start. He just can’t bring himself to do it, though. Things had seemed okay, when he was with Gladio. Hell, even in class, Noctis had forced himself to pay attention, to get through it all, and he’d survived. Now though, the second he’s alone, back in his room, surrounded by the memories of having Prompto in his bed, of their fumbling and kissing and everything else?

 

Yeah. It’s hard.

 

He turns his computer back on, and it’s easier this way.

 

It’s scary how fast time goes by when Noct’s playing video games. One moment he’s just setting things up, getting a playlist going and figuring out exactly what he’s going to do in his dumb game. The next moment, it’s dark out (not necessarily an issue in itself, since they’re at the end of October now, and the sun sets early), and the door’s opening. Prompto’s home. Noctis doesn’t know if he should close his door or not. He shrinks down in his chair and pretends that he’s not here, even though it’s obvious he is. Maybe Prompto won’t approach him.

 

But Noctis slips his headphones off. He leaves the group that he’s in on his game. He can’t help but listen to the sound of his best friend settling in. He hears some pans cluttering in the kitchen, the beeping of the television and their gaming console turn on.

 

One small thing a day. Just one thing. That’s what Gladio said, right?

 

Noct’s heart is thumping in his chest as he carefully slides out of the computer chair. It makes no sense – he was just with Prompto earlier, in class. So why is it so hard, when it’s just the two of them, alone in the apartment? Why is he so determined to avoid his best friend? None of this makes any sense.

 

Prompto’s in the kitchen. He’s beating some eggs in a bowl and has some bacon crackling in a pan on the stovetop. The scent is starting to spread through the apartment, and it makes Noct’s stomach leap. Prompto’s eyes widen a little as he looks up and notices Noctis leaning in the doorway. “Didn’t know if you were home,” he says, and the words are a lie. Noct knows they’re a lie, but he’s somehow grateful for Prompto pretending that he isn’t painfully aware that Noctis was trying to avoid being detected.

 

“Just playing video games. Not doing much of anything,” Noctis tries to sound casual. There’s the urge to retreat, of course, but he promised Gladio he’ll do one hard thing a day. Maybe fixing his friendship with Prompto can be his one thing. Maybe.

 

“Well, you want some food?” Prompto’s relaxing a little, and even though things aren’t normal between them, not by far, it’s a little start. “Made enough for two, just in case.”

 

Noctis realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Again. Fuck. He’s really got to get better about that. Take care of himself more, or something. “Yeah,” he agrees, and the bacon really _does_ smell good. “Guess I should eat something.”

 

Their dinner is awkward. It can’t be helped. Noct’s uneasy, shifting in his chair, and he’s got the itch to run away. He knows it’s irrational and stupid, but it’s a _relentless,_ uncomfortable feeling, and the more he focuses on it and tries to ignore it, the worse he gets. Prompto spends half the meal rambling on about school, and his job, and anything to fill the silence between them, to keep from talking about _other_ things.

 

“So. It’s Halloween,” Prompto says, after they finish eating and he rinses the dishes off in the sink and throws them into the dishwasher. “I was debating going out to Cindy’s costume party, but… I dunno. Kinda tired from work.”

 

Noctis blinks. It’s Halloween? He hadn’t even realized. He pulls his phone out, and yeah, there’s the confirmation, it’s the last day of the month. He’s not big on holidays in general, but in previous years, Prompto absolutely made them get dumb, matching costumes, and they usually wouldn’t even go to parties, and they were too old for going out and getting candy, but they’d wear them around anyway, like the idiot best friends they are. This year’s the first year things are _different._ Is this growing up, Noctis has to wonder, yet again?

 

“You wanna play a few games of Overwatch, instead?” Prompto asks, and Noctis realizes suddenly that yeah, he absolutely wants to.

 

“I’m not healing,” Noctis says instantly, “I’m not playing Mercy. I’m not doing it.” Prompto grins and laughs, though, and it shakes the uncomfortable silence a little.

 

“Cool. I got some candy at work. Let’s go eat junk and you can not heal me.”

 

Noctis plays Mercy, and he nerd rages the whole time, as he eats a bag of the chips that Prompto brought home. Somehow, it makes him feel a little bit better. It eases away the emptiness in his heart a little, and it’s nice, the two of them, being like this again. Even though there’s a distinct space on the couch between them, and Prompto’s not curled up close like he normally is, an arm carelessly tossed over him, it still feels like maybe it’s a bit of progress.

 

“You wanna play another?” Prompto asks, after a few games. They actually manage to win them all. (Noctis quietly takes credit for it.)

 

“Think I’m done,” Noctis grumbles, setting his controller aside. His wrist hurts, from playing too many video games. Of course, he’s probably going to retreat to his room and go right back to his other game, but he doesn’t think about that.

 

Prompto nods, and he shifts, just a little, and for a moment, Noct thinks he’s going to reach out, to close the distance between them. Just for a moment. Then Prompto settles back in again, and the cat jumps into his lap, purring contentedly, and he lifts a hand instead, scratching underneath Peanut’s chin. “Cool. This was fun, Noct. I’m… glad, y’know? That we’re friends.”

 

“Me too,” Noctis agrees, but he’s quick to make his retreat. His stomach’s doing flips again, and the whole word, _friend,_ it’s confusing. What is this? What does Noctis want? Should he fight for something else? Or should they just be friends, should they go back to what they were? It’s too much to think about.

  
Instead of turning on his computer, Noctis crawls into bed. He’s not tired. He’s lost though, drifting in his thoughts, and he feels like he’s going to throw up. He still needs to clean his room. He needs to study. He should sleep, too, because he’s so fucking tired, and even though he got a bit of rest at Gladio’s, it’s not nearly enough. Self care is important. Noctis wants to go back out and throw himself at Prompto, but simultaneously, he wants to hide under the blankets and never come out. Was it weird? Was this whole night weird?

 

Is it just his imagination, or is there something still between them, a spark that neither of them are reaching for?

 

Noctis groans. His phone vibrates, and it’s his dad. Great.

 

‘just checking up on u. clarus said u were w gladio, everything ok?’

 

For someone who runs a billion dollar company, Noct’s dad sucks ass at texting. Noctis groans again and stares at the message. There’s a wide-eyed, blushing emoji following the text. Is that even the proper use of that emoji? Who the hell let his dad use emojis?

 

Noctis starts to type out an ‘im fine.’ Then he erases the message.

 

‘u wanna get dinner dad?’ is what he replies with. He hits send before he can back out.

 

One hard thing a day, that’s what Gladio told him to do. Noct’s done two. In all, not the worst day, right?

 

He rewards himself by slinking back to his computer, and maybe he plays video games all night, and feels like utter shit by the end of it, his eyes burning, his muscles sore and aching, a tenseness between his shoulderblades that he can’t ease out, and his wrist throbbing and burning when he twists it the wrong way. But he did his damn two things, and at least his mind is pleasantly numb and too exhausted to worry about everything else.

 

Like the fact that he’s just agreed to get dinner on Friday with his dad. There’s a talk coming, Noctis already knows it, and he has absolutely no fucking idea what he’s going to say. He’s terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had an outline for this chapter. then noctis shut down the whole thing because he still won't fuckin' have the Real Conversation he needs to have, at least not with Gladio. Maybe Reg will get through???
> 
> sorry not a lot happens here. boy's stuck in a depression and well, it takes a bit to get out of that, y'know? there's no instant, easy fix, and i think it's shitty and cheap if i don't properly explore this. so this chapter was hard, because... yeah, noct's going to crawl out of this, but it's a cycle. he'll fall back and forth. 
> 
> as always, thanks for sticking w/ this mess of a slowburn. sorry for the slow update, it's hard to write. noctis is not easy atm. i tried to reply to comments on the last chapter but i fell behind and i just wanna say thank youuuu to everyone who commented re: my depiction of depression. obviously i've been there and done that, so thanks to everyone who shared a bit of their own experiences. it gets better, i promise it does, and i love everyone who has stuck w/ me for the 100k+ words of this mess.
> 
> i'm on twitter @thatdest, tumblr @destatree . come scream at me. <3


	25. If I Could Find the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not doing it for me, are you?” Prompto asks slowly, carefully. “I know what I said and… I didn’t mean it like that, you know that, right?”
> 
> “I’m doing it for me,” Noct replies quickly, and it’s maybe the most sincere thing he’s said so far today.

Noctis forgets to go to sleep. Of course, he doesn’t realize this until it’s partway through the morning of the following day. He’s got his headphones in, and a podcast playing, and he’s apparently been oblivious to the sounds of Prompto going to bed for the night, of getting up, leaving for his run, coming back and showering.

 

It’s almost eleven in the morning when Prompto knocks on the door and peeks his head in, and Noctis slips his headphones off one ear.

 

“You’re up early, Noct,” Prompto comments. Wednesdays, Noctis usually sleeps in past noon, because he only has one class in the afternoon. It’s Prompto’s weekday off from class, and he usually works at some point during the day.

 

“Yeah,” Noct agrees, because it’s just dawning on him that he hasn’t slept. That his mouth tastes dry and chalky. His eyes are red and scratchy and they hurt from too long staring at the computer screen. Fuck.

 

“I made you some breakfast,” Prompto says. “If you don’t want it, it’s okay, I’ll eat it for lunch later…”

 

“I want it,” Noct says quickly, though he flushes bright red because is he talking about the breakfast? Or something else?

 

And it’s obvious that he doesn’t know the answer to that particular problem, because Prompto sounds flustered, too. “Okay. Cool. I uh, I’ve got a thing tonight, so I’m not gonna be home, alright, Noct? I… you gonna be okay alone?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Noct says a little too quickly. Prompto has _a thing._ Not work. Not class. A _thing._ Is it a date? Noctis hopes his best friend isn’t going on a date and leaving him behind And he doesn’t want to be alone, either, but what can he say? That distance between them is as wide as ever, physical in the sense that Prompto’s hovering barely inside the doorway, not coming in, but so much more than that. Noct still doesn’t know if they’ll ever move past this.

 

Noct eats half of the breakfast Prompto made him. It’s French toast. Prompto usually at least _tries_ to eat healthy but it’s sugary and sweet with lots of syrup. Noct doesn’t think about all that, because he’s Noctis. This is hard on Prompto, too, he’d realize, if he could just sit and properly think. Prompto’s stress-eating and overworking himself, throwing himself headlong into anything he can, additional hours at work, study groups, and so on. But… well. Noctis doesn’t ask Prompto about any of that, and he’s oblivious to the tell-tale signs.

 

He can’t finish his breakfast. He takes a shower, though, and he even manages to get dressed in some proper clean clothing. The exhaustion is setting in, and Noctis wants to just crawl into bed. He’s got an assignment due next Wednesday in this particular class, but he _could,_ in theory, miss today’s…

 

Noctis sighs though. His one thing a day. He promised Gladio. So he grabs an energy drink out of the fridge. He had run out, but apparently Prompto had restocked them for him, and Noct’s horribly conflicted by the deep rush of appreciation he feels that Prompto’s still thinking of him. He should tell him, but… well, that part is too hard.

 

Noctis dozes off through parts of the class, and the whole thing goes in a blur. He still attends, though, and he’s proud of himself. When he gets home, Prompto isn’t home, and Peanut greets him at the door with a chirping meow and a quivering tail, and Noct stoops down to rub his knuckles over the cat’s face, and down his spine to scratch at that spot above his tail that all cats love.

 

“Prom left us for the night, huh?” Noctis says to the cat. Peanut stares up at him with wide eyes that glow around the edges in the dim, early evening light. It’s so cold out, and the apartment, empty and vast, seems like it’s sucked in the coldness.

 

Noct considers dinner. He’s pretty sure that there’s an instant meal or two in the freezer. Or he could order delivery. But he yawns, and wraps his arms around himself. Outside, it was just starting to sleet on his way back from class, and it’s gotten deep down into his bones. So instead, he pulls off his damp clothes and wanders into his room.

 

The cat follows him, and jumps onto the bed as Noctis crawls in under the blankets and curls up. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, because one moment he’s shivering and huddling under the blankets, loosely gripping his phone in one hand, and the next, his alarm is blaring in his ear next to him.

 

Noctis groans and grumbles and fumbles to swipe his alarm off. There’s a comfortable weight curled up next to him, and for a moment, his heart leaps. Then he realizes it’s a small and fluffy weight: just the cat. Peanut crawled under the blankets at some point during the night and snuggled up next to his side.

 

Still, that’s comforting. Noctis and the cat have never really gotten along in the past. It’s Prompto’s cat, through and through, always regarding Noctis with that sort of disdain only a cat can muster up. It’s funny, really, how such a small creature can have such a distinct personality, but Noct’s been fairly certain this cat hates him. So he’s comforted, and he slips a hand down to rub the cat’s ears.

 

Peanut makes a quiet noise and swats his hand away with a clawed paw, then leaps out of the bed.

 

Okay, so maybe they aren’t _that_ close yet, and it was just a warmth thing.

 

Prompto is at class when Noctis gets there. He’s in their usual seats.

 

“Hey, it okay if…”

 

Prompto lifts his backpack out of the seat next to him, and gestures. “Of course, dude.”

 

The seat next to him. Noctis sits down in a hurry, and their shoulders nudge together as he leans in to get his books set up on the little fold up desktop on the side of his chair. Fuck. Noct’s heart is racing. He _misses_ Prompto, in a whole lot of ways, and this is _hard._ It was a bad idea.

 

“You didn’t come home last night,” Noctis is probably tense, his jaw set, his shoulders square and straight as he sits and doesn’t dare lift his eyes away from the front of the room. “On a hot date, Prom?” he’s trying to tease, but it’s probably horribly obvious what Noct is getting at here.

 

“Naw,” Prompto’s laugh sounds a little forced, “study group thing. I was close to Gladio’s place so I figured it’d be easier to just crash there.”

 

Noctis frowns. He does it without realizing it, chewing at his lip. Prompto was at Gladio’s?

 

“You two aren’t like… involved, right?”

 

Prompto twists in his seat. It brushes their arms together, and he outright _gapes_ at Noctis with wide eyes, and Noct, in response, feels his cheeks flush horribly, so he ducks his head down. “… sorry, that was. I shouldn’t have asked that, huh?”

 

“Noct, he’s like, your _brother_ practically. I… fuck, Noctis. Buddy. I… I know things have gotten weird, but I’m not a fuckin’ asshole, okay?” Prompto sighs, and he composes himself and looks away, too. “I… sorry. You’re not the only one who’s messed up over all of this. I’m not dating _anyone,_ Noct.”

 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” and Noctis is embarrassed about how goddamn _relieved_ he feels, hearing those words. It’s only creating a thousand more questions, of course. Does that mean Prompto’s still feeling something? Can this be salvaged? They’re the wrong questions to focus on, because really, their friendship has so many cracks around the edges, it’s so close to shattering into something irreparably damaged, and Noctis _knows_ that, on some level. He hadn’t known that before, when he’d gone off to Tenebrae, or before that, when they were still messing around. Maybe Noct still isn’t entirely sure on it now. But… some basic level of instinct is telling him to walk cautiously here, that his _best friend_ is more important than anything else.

 

“I don’t know how much space to give you,” Prompto admits, after a silence. The lecture hall is mostly empty, thank god, and Prompto’s voice is little more than a rough whisper. “I know we both need it, Noctis, but I’m really scared that you’re shutting yourself away.”

 

Noctis wants to reach over the seat and give his best friend an awkward hug. But it’s just that. Neither of them know the exact dynamics of what they’re working with. He keeps coming to awful realizations, and the one that’s hitting Noctis just now is that the easy, comfortable dynamic of their friendship has been horribly and utterly mangled. There’s no more of that easy affection. Prompto falling asleep with his head buried in Noct’s chest, or casually throwing an arm around Noct’s shoulders and smiling and laughing together, all of that is _impossible_ now.

 

They just had to go and catch feelings, didn’t they? And Noctis just has to be so fucking terrible at this, so unsure about what exactly he wants, that he’s gone and fucked up the best thing he’s ever had.

 

“I don’t know how much space I need, Prom,” Noctis admits the words right back, realizing he’s been silent for way too long. “Everything’s just… foggy right now.”

 

“I know, Noct.”

 

Their shoulders brush together, just for a moment, and then Prompto leans away, breaking that delicate point of contact that is somehow everything.

 

“I’m having dinner with my dad tomorrow night,” Noctis blurts out suddenly. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Prompto that, but it seems like an important thing to say, to make known. “… I don’t know what I’m going to tell him. But I think it’s time that I talk to him about stuff.”

 

About who he is, and who he isn’t, and how he has no idea where he’s going.

 

Prompto shifts a little in his seat, and slowly, tentatively, his fingers brush over the back of Noct’s. It’s a subtle touch, one that sends outright sparks bursting all through Noctis in a way that he isn’t expecting. He lingers there, just for a touch longer than Noct’s expecting, before drawing back again.

 

“You’re not doing it for me, are you?” Prompto asks slowly, carefully. “I know what I said and… I didn’t mean it like that, you know that, right?”

 

“I’m doing it for me,” Noct replies quickly, and it’s maybe the most sincere thing he’s said so far today. Prompto seems satisfied with that answer. He’s careful to keep his distance, and then their instructor comes in with a pop quiz that Noctis actually thinks he’s somehow managed to do okay on. Even though the awkwardness is still there, Noctis can’t help but wonder if maybe their friendship really will survive this.

 

\---

 

Noctis finds Aranea after class. She’s taken over some poor new professor’s office during the days he’s out. The faculty should probably just give her a space of her own, and that’s probably the point she’s making. She’s probably a total fucking nightmare to share a space with.

 

“So you’re alive,” Aranea says as Noctis slips into the office and closes the door behind him.

 

Noctis shrugs. “Still breathing,” he agrees, “Aranea, I’ve got a project due next week, think you can work through it with me?” In short, he’s saying, he isn’t here to talk through his stupid, shitty problems. Aranea isn’t the type of person to come to with his bleeding heart and his dumb, whiny issues, and Noctis wants to make that clear. More than that, his stomach is doing flipflops and maybe he just really wants someone to stop treating him like he’s going to fucking break. He already feels like he’s going to, and everyone else walking on eggshells around him isn’t helping.

 

“Sure, I’ve got the time,” Aranea pushes aside the tiny laptop she’s been working away on. “You’re holding up better than I expected. Still kinda look like shit though.”

 

“I feel like shit,” Noctis can admit to that much, as he pulls up a chair and sits down and tugs his textbook and his tablet and his notes out of his backpack. “I don’t wanna talk about it.

 

“Keeping busy will help,” Aranea says, instead of acknowledging Noct’s feelings, and he appreciates that. She’s all business, her hair swept out of her face today in a top-knot, a few stray bangs falling and framing in her features.

 

“I told Gladio I’d do one tough thing a day,” Noctis laughs a little self-consciously, and he doesn’t know why he’s admitting that to Aranea, of all people. He passes over the sheet of paper that was handed out in class that details the assignment. Realistically, he should’ve started working on it several weeks ago. But honestly, the fact that he’s doing it six days before it’s due instead of the night before is probably still a far better situation than most students are in, currently.

 

“Good advice,” Aranea nods, eyes scanning quickly over the outline, “I like Gladio. He’s smart. Practical. Doesn’t sugarcoat what you need to hear, unlike our _dearest_ Ignis.”

 

Noctis flushes. He wonders if maybe he should ask about Ignis, about what’s going on between the two of them. He’s torn though – is it his business? Maybe that’s a question that’s better saved for Ignis. Noct’s in a place where he’s trying to make effort, finally, to learn what’s going on with his friends’ lives, but he doesn’t know what he can and can’t say, or ask. It’s a very weird place to be in.

 

“I’m not the type to sugarcoat, either,” Aranea says, as she jots down a few quick notes on the sheet of paper Noct’s passed over. “Your friends are too close. They’re trying not to step on your toes too much. Even the big guy.” She hands the paper back over to Noctis, “let me see what you’ve gotten started on. And in exchange, I’m gonna give you an email address. I think you need to fucking suck it up and _talk_ to someone. Not me, and not one of your friends. A counsellor. Trust me, it’ll _help._ ”

 

“I’m not going to, Aranea,” Noctis ducks his head down, and he feels a little creeping flush of shame, but he’s not about to pretend for a second that he’s going to make an appointment with some college counsellor.

 

“Fine. But take the email address down, at least? And think on it. It’s your sanity, Noctis, not mine.”

 

Noct nods slowly. Aranea helps him finish up his outline, goes through his arguments that he’s making, and the questions he’s worked through, and even if she tears his half-assed work apart, she seems strangely pleased with the idea behind it all. She really isn’t so bad. And true to her word, she writes down an email address and a phone number on the back of her business card and tells Noct, again, that he really should try it out. Just once.

 

Noctis considers it his ‘hard thing’ for the day when he doesn’t immediately throw the card into the trash on his way to his second class. He slips it into one of his notebooks, instead. Just in case.

 

-When he gets home, Noct’s mind hurts. He’s creeping back into that place where he can’t think, can’t concentrate, can’t do anything but feel numb and worn thin. He’s not doing any more than he was doing a few weeks ago. He’s not putting in extra effort. So, why are simple tasks so draining? All he did was go to his classes and see Aranea for that brief meeting.

 

He skipped lunch, again, and that probably doesn’t help, but whatever.

 

Noctis crawls into bed, plugs in his phone, and props it up on his pillow. He watches an entire season of some show that’s on his streaming queue. At some point, he falls into a half-conscious state, where dreams intersperse with the show he’s watching, twisting into old memories, into feelings that aren’t entirely formed. He thinks, maybe, he hears Prompto come in and settle in for the night, watching TV and playing video games, and carefully peeking into Noct’s room before he goes to bed.

 

It’s hard to say.

 

Tomorrow, he has to face his dad.

 

\---

 

Noctis doesn’t really remember what he does that day. He tries to finish up the assignment Aranea’s helped him with, but it’s all a messy blur, and he ends up playing video games, instead. Prompto has school, and work, and Noctis only remembers that because his best friend sends him a reminder text, as well as a quick little ‘hey good luck with ur dad!’ message, one complete with a heart emoji that has Noct’s heart thumping and him wondering if he’s looking into this too much. He’s definitely drawing too much meaning from such a simple gesture. The thought of it all, at some point, is too much, and Noctis crawls back into bed.

 

At five, he drags his ass out of bed and into the shower.

 

Noct’s dad picks him up at six, and his heart is ready to explode out of his chest. He’s nervous, more than a little terrified, and he’s retreating back into the deep recesses of his mind, feeling more than a little numbed about the whole ordeal. It’s better than the alternative, where he’d be panicking. When he gets the text from his father to head out, Noct almost loses his nerve and cancels. Almost. But he doesn’t.

 

“Hey, dad,” Noctis says carefully, climbing into the car as it stops outside his apartment. His father’s picking him up himself for once, instead of sending a driver, or calling Ignis, and Noct doesn’t know how he feels about that.

 

“Long time no see, son,” Noct’s dad doesn’t look as tired as he usually does, and Noct feels a pang of guilt, because he hasn’t bothered to check in or see his father since his return, after all. And there’s the whole ‘canceled the trip halfway through’ thing. This whole growing up and holding himself accountable for his actions thing is awful. But it’s his one thing for the day, right?

 

“I just saw you last week,” Noctis points out, buckling up and leaning his face against the window as his father pulls back out onto the street. Overhead, it’s starting to snow, and it’s apparently promising to be the first real snowfall of the year.

 

“That was the other side of the world, Noctis,” his father replies, with a smile. “What you in the mood for?”

 

Noctis sighs heavily. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not that hungry. Just… somewhere we can talk?” He doesn’t want to talk. Or, maybe he _does_ want to, and it’s just impossibly hard. Either way, they’re here, aren’t they?

 

“I can order delivery if you want,” his father offers up, “and we can stay in and watch a movie. And talk, if you want to, Noctis.”

 

“Yeah, let’s do that, dad,” Noctis agrees. He can’t back out now. He’s terrified.

 

Bless his father’s heart though, because he isn’t pressing it. Noct’s dad rambles on about the rest of the trip as they traverse the freeway back to his condo, and he’s still telling Noctis some absolutely ridiculous story about some kid pulling the fire alarm in the hotel on the last night there when they make their way up the elevator and inside.

 

Noctis lets his dad pick the food, and it’s a little unsettling to see that his old, very uncool dad is an expert at using the food delivery app on his phone.

 

“I hope you didn’t leave too many emojis in the delivery instructions, dad,” Noctis grumbles out, mostly teasing, as he makes himself comfortable on the couch.

 

“It’s _all_ emojis, son,” his father smiles back as he sits down at the other end of the couch. “How else am I going to be a cool dad?”

 

“You’re a _dad,_ you can’t be cool,” Noctis protests, but somehow, he’s feeling better, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips for the first time that night.

 

“I made my idiot son _smile,_ look at that. I can’t be that bad then, huh?”

 

The noise Noctis makes in response is somewhere between an embarrassed groan and a little laugh. He picks up the throw pillow at the end of the couch and throws it at his father’s face. It breaks the tension, somehow, and Noctis doesn’t feel so much like a small, terrified child anymore. He feels like just maybe, he can do this.

 

It’s an hour and a half later, with a half-eaten box of pizza (half deluxe, half pepperoni and bacon) and a couple of cans of beer between them, that Noctis goes for it. He’s actually managed two slices of pizza. Beer definitely isn’t Noct’s thing, either, but he’s hoping that it’ll ease the nerves. It hasn’t actually done anything, because even though he’s drinking on a mostly empty stomach, his nerves are wound too tightly for the alcohol to properly take hold.

 

“I’m sorry, dad,” Noctis says suddenly, quietly, leaning forward, the mostly-empty beer car held in a loose grip as he rests his elbows on his knees. “I… owe you a real apology for Tenebrae.”

 

They’re watching a weird thriller movie about a detective trying to hunt down a serial killer before he can strike again. Noct’s dad has pointed out several times over the past half hour that he’s already figured out who the killer is, and Noct grumbles that he doesn’t care. Secretly, he’s annoyed that he can’t figure it out.

 

His father reaches for the remote and ticks the volume down a few notches. “I told you not to apologize. You’re at an age where you have to make your own decisions, and that’s what you did, Noctis.”

 

“It probably wasn’t the right decision,” Noct laughs a little, and he lifts his beer to his lips and downs another swig of it. It’s just the old, warm, flat remnants at the bottom, and he winces as it goes down his throat. “I… dad, I don’t think I’m who you want me to be. I’m sorry for that, okay?”

 

“Noctis,” his father says carefully, and this time, he opts to outright pause the movie, “you’re my son. I _want_ you to be safe and happy. That’s all.”

 

Noctis frowns. He’s fidgeting, swirling the beer can around with loose fingers, staring thoughtfully at the unmoving image frozen on the television screen. “Well, I’m not happy right now, so I guess I’m letting you down, huh? Dad, I… everything’s a mess right now. I’m sorry.”

 

Noctis doesn’t know how much his dad knows. Did Gladio tell his father anything? Noct’s well aware that his father and Clarus Amicitia tell each other damn near everything. It makes him a little wistful, really, that his dad has a friend he’s so close with. Especially, maybe, when their two sons spent so long feeling so left behind. And really, Noct’s still feeling left behind, even if Gladio claims he’s moved past it.

 

“Nobody’s happy all the time, Noctis,” his dad points out, voice gentle. He reaches out, and rests a hand on Noct’s shoulder, and the contact makes him jump. There’s a distinct urge to squirm away, to close off and shut down this whole fucking conversation before Noctis can ruin everything and make a mess out of it.

 

Noctis leans forward. He puts his empty can on the coffee table. When he relaxes back against the couch, he scoots a little closer to his father, instead. Maybe it’s just because he’s been so fucked up over the past week, but the thought of some human contact, of just being _close_ to his dad… Noctis craves it, like he’s still that little kid back in the hospital. It’s a back-and-forth, and one moment he feels like maybe he really is becoming an adult, and then the next it’s smacking him square in the chest and reducing him back down again.

 

“Luna has a boyfriend, dad,” Noctis blurts out. That’s not where he intended to start with all of this, but that’s what comes out. “She’s… got some guy, and I feel really dumb about it, but… I’m _relieved,_ too. We had that date in Tenebrae, and she’s just… I love her, but I’ll never _love_ love her.”

 

Noctis waits for a fallout that never comes.

 

“I know,” his father says simply. Noctis feels his dad’s eyes on him, and he shyly turns his face that direction, not quite meeting the gaze, but sneaking a teasing little reciprocating glance. “I had the feeling that you didn’t really like her that way. Just a dad hunch.”

 

Noctis groans. A dad hunch. Of course his father would put it that way, and it’s breaking Noctis in a very strange way, because his father’s insinuating that he _knows_ him. Noct’s dad really doesn’t know anything about him, and that’s the fucking problem.

 

“I don’t wanna shatter the image you have of me,” Noctis says carefully. His hand gropes across the couch cushion, gripping at the edge of it. “But I’m just… I’m _not_ the son you think I am, dad. It’s not just Luna. I think… I’ve just… there aren’t any _girls_ I can ever see myself with, you know?”

 

Noctis can’t bring himself to say the words, and he knows he’s dancing around the subject like an idiot, but they’re honest words. Maybe it’ll change in the future, but probably not. There’s one person that he sees himself with, and it’s stupid, because it’s all fucked up, but that’s the truth of it. Noct casts his gaze down, and he’s about ready to jump up and leave, to run out of his father’s apartment. He’s going to be disowned. He’ll have to get a job to pay for the apartment, and then he’s _really_ screwed them both over. Prompto will hate him, when his dad isn’t covering the rent anymore. He’ll want to move out. Noctis is going to be stuck getting a shitty roommate he finds online, and—

 

The thoughts all rush through in less than a split second.

 

“Noctis,” his father says, “if this is your way of telling me something, I’d like to make it very clear that I don’t care who you want to be with. Hell, son, I don’t care _what_ you want to do with your life. As long as it’s making you happy.”

 

The words are simple, and they shock Noctis straight to the core. His head jerks up. He meets his father’s eyes, straight on, for the first time that night, and Noct’s reminded of just how fucking strikingly similar some of their features are. Yeah, they’re distinctly different in some ways. Noctis looks more delicate, so much like his mother. But maybe, the way he sets his jaw is the same way his father does. When he’s _really_ determined, he wears an expression that’s so much like his dad’s.

 

“I don’t know what is going to make me happy, dad,” Noctis admits quietly, “I… fucked up. The reason I left Tenebrae… it was Prompto’s birthday, and I almost missed it.”

 

He can’t quite recognize the look on his father’s face. Really, it’s all the pieces falling neatly into place for Regis Caelum. He’s suspected for a long time. Hell, he’s been _damn near certain_ for a few months now. But that’s the final piece in the puzzle.

 

“Ah, I _knew_ there was something important about that particular day,” his father says mildly.

 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s pissed at me,” Noctis shakes his head with a sad little smile. “I told you, dad. It’s all fucked up. I have no idea _who_ I am, or where I’m going.”

 

“Maybe,” his dad curls an arm around his shoulders, and Noct’s too overwhelmed to be properly shocked by that, can only lean into the touch, his head settling neatly on his dad’s shoulder, hands gripping at his knees like he’s trying to crush something, knuckles white and fingertips bruising. “You should focus on _that_ part, Noctis. Stop worrying about what your idiot old man is thinking, and maybe just ask me for a change. I’m to blame, son. I lock myself away, too, and I’ve never been the easiest person to open up to.”

 

Noctis stays silent, though he tips his head and buries it into his father’s chest, and he feels like he’s small and vulnerable again, only this time, he’s _finally_ getting a taste of the reassurance he’s craving. It’s too late, and it’s too little, but it’s _something._

 

“If I could go back and change how I raised you, I would, you know,” his father continues, “I know it does you no good now, but… I’m the reason you’re struggling now. You never learned to _talk_ about things. Hell, Noctis, I’m almost fifty and we’re _just_ having this conversation now.”

 

“You saying I should just blame it on you?” Noctis laughs a little, even though it comes out all messy and pathetic sounding, almost like he’s holding back a sob. “Funny. Gladio told me I need to move on.”

 

“If that’s what you want to do,” his dad replies, “Gladio and Clarus have… a similarly complex relationship, though theirs is somewhat different than ours. I don’t expect your forgiveness, Noctis, but… I am trying. I really am. That trip to Tenebrae… I quite enjoyed it.”

 

“Until I crashed it all with my bullshit,” Noctis points out, though he’s somehow, impossibly, feeling a little better. It’s still a mess. He’s still a fucked up confused ball of early adulthood, all twisted and confused about where he’s going, and what he’s doing. But it feels like another one of those little baby steps forward. They’re _talking,_ after all. And even though he’s skimming over the Prompto thing, he thinks they’re just maybe on the same page.

 

“The stories I could tell you of my early twenties, Noctis…” his father laughs, “I was a mess in college. You’re allowed to be one too.”

 

“I want you to be able to retire, dad,” Noctis says suddenly, “I just… I don’t know if I see myself following in your footsteps. It’s just… it’s a lot of _work,_ dad. And with how mom died, and you were busy all the time…”

 

His father draws away, and there’s a moment of panic when Noct feels like he’s pushed too far. But instead, his father reaches to grip at his shoulders, holding him at length and regarding him for a long moment. “Noctis. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t want anything to do with the company, you know. There are options. Your success isn’t marked by how well the business does.”

 

“Your success was,” Noctis says it quickly before he can process that he _shouldn’t,_ before he can throw back up those protective barriers that keep him from saying things just like that. His father doesn’t respond right away, and he doesn’t fucking have to, because Noctis can see it in his father’s face, the way his expression falters, and crumbles slowly, the way his dad is the one to look away this time, his eyes crestfallen.

 

“Yes, it was, Noctis, and I regret it now, more than you know.”

 

They should talk about it more, Noctis knows but he feels a headache coming on. He carefully looks away, and when his father’s fingers loosen their grip on his shoulder, Noctis scoots back to the other end of the couch. He leans forward, and his beer can is still empty when he picks it up, but it’s more of that nervous fidgeting again.

 

“… I’m going to forgive you for it, dad. Eventually,” Noctis says quietly, “… but not today. I want to, but… it still hurts, y’know?”

 

“I know, Noctis,” his dad says quietly. “I’m proud of you. You’re doing a lot better than you think you are.”

 

Noctis doesn’t think so. “I hope so, dad.”

 

“Things will work out with Prompto,” his father adds, quietly, as he reaches for the remote to turn the movie back on. “I’ve always thought there was something between you two, you know…”

 

Those words, somehow, are a harsher shock than anything else they’ve talked about. Even after the movie resumes, Noctis ponders on it, long and hard, for a very long time. Maybe he’s closer to truly forgiving his dad than he initially thought. Maybe his father knows him better than he gave him credit for. Maybe Noctis isn’t such a hopeless, shitty person after all. Maybe he really _can_ change things, if he tries.

 

“Can I stay the night?” Noctis asks, after the movie ends. “Just… it’s late, I don’t feel like traveling across town.”

 

It’s a dumb excuse, because his dad can call him a ride home, and neither of them have to actually make the drive, and Noctis knows his father is well aware. His dad humours him though, with a well-placed comment about being old and cranky, that it’s past his bedtime and his back is aching. It’s strange, lying in his old room, staring up at at the ceiling, and Noct is reminded, yet again, that there’s no going back to simpler times.

 

He remembers sleepovers with Prompto. He remembers a day, so very long ago, with the two of them drunk and hanging off the couch and passing a bottle of his dad’s stolen wine back and forth. Noctis wonders what the hell happened to that silly, carefree story, the one of first love and fumbling touches, the one that’s supposed to end with him and Prompto coming to a revelation. Real life doesn’t have neat, happy endings though.

 

He texts Prompto a quick message that he’s staying at his dad’s, and not to worry about him not coming back.

 

Prompto still manages to text back almost instantly, just a goodnight message, and that he’ll see him in the morning. Noct’s fingers itch, and he wonders if he should tell Prompto that his dad knows. His dad knows, and he’s maybe even okay with it.

 

But that won’t fix anything. It was never about that, was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooorayyy, progress. Noct, my precious boy, I'm so fucking proud of you. it is very, very tiny progress, but that's the simple joy of depression, huh? i realized, halfway thru writing this, that my shitty promptis fic has turned into some weird twisted mental health advocacy piece, oops. (also A+ golden advice Aranea, thank you for being the voice of reason)
> 
> for maximum feels, i just want you all to know that i listened to "cat's in the cradle" basically on repeat while writing everything with regis. Noct has SO many issues to work through, oh boy, every time i channel him i get so bogged down with it all, but we continue to trudge along... 
> 
> as always! I appreciate you taking the time to stick w/ this story! thanks to every single person who has screamed at my ask box on tumblr, has left reviews, has DRAWN ME FREAKIN' FANART, and a special thank you to just_peachy for being awesome and letting me rant about how dumb Noct is, and to Numi for continuing my circlejerk of inspiration AND DRAWING THESE BOYS IN THE MOST LUDIC-VERSE COUPLES SWEATERS POSSIBLE. 
> 
> tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest. come scream w/ me!!


	26. Tumble and Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct’s fingers are twitching, and he shoves them roughly in his pockets, because it’d be so easy to reach out, to take Prompto’s hand and twine their fingers together. Noct’s not sure he can possibly fucking handle another rejection, though.

Is there a shift, after all this?

 

A subtle one, yeah, and Noctis isn’t sure how he feels about that.

 

When Noct wakes up, late in the morning, his dad’s made him some pancakes. It’s a little kick to the stomach, a funny wave of nostalgia as he tackles his breakfast. His dad’s on the balcony of the highrise, in the middle of some business call or another. As he downs the sugary stack of chocolate chip pancakes, the thought hits, that _nothing_ really feels like it’s changed.

 

Some of the panic has eased, yeah. It’s a bit easier to breathe. There’s not that overwhelming fear that his dad hates him, that he’s going to lose everything. _That_ part is a relief.

 

The rest of it though? The thought of going back to his apartment, of cleaning up his still-trashed room, of _talking_ to Prompto about all of this? Noctis hates that it still seems like the most daunting feeling in the world. He hates that this talk with his dad is a rough starting point, and not a fix-all.

 

“Why don’t they tell us that?” Noctis says aloud to nobody in particular. “That growing up sucks. I don’t wanna do this.” Maybe he’s gotten too used to having the cat around, really, because at least if he’s at home, he has the cat to talk to usually. Now, he’s just an idiot, sitting in the empty kitchen bar at his dad’s condo, talking to his mostly-eaten mushy stack of pancakes. Good.

 

He’s poking at the remaining bits of breakfast, dragging it over his sticky plate with his fork, when his dad comes back inside. Noctis looks over his shoulder. His father looks vaguely irritated, and he’s typing up a storm on his phone.

 

“Work shit?” Noctis asks lazily.

 

“Don’t say _shit,_ Noctis,” his father replies absently, and Noctis rolls his eyes.

 

“Shit, dad. _Shit.”_

 

His father heaves a sigh and swats at the back of Noct’s head as he passes by. “Work stuff. Always work stuff. Sorry, Noctis, I know it’s a weekend, and you’re here, but I had to take that.”

 

“Not really selling this ‘join the family business’ stuff on me, dad,” Noctis replies, with a final, vicious stab of his pancake before he stands up and gathers his plate to scrape the remnants into the trash. Their heavy conversation from the night before is still weighing on him. Noct’s not sure the correct approach here. Are things different? He knows his dad is accepting, at the very least, about all of this, and that’s a relief, but…

 

“You should intern for the company,” his father says, abruptly. Noctis blinks. He almost drops his plate into the trash.

 

“What? Gross, dad, that sounds _awful.”_

 

“The worst,” his father shrugs and agrees, “but it’ll give you perspective. It’s not going to break your old man’s heart if you hate it, promise. Intern during school breaks. And until then, pick some electives that you enjoy. Might help you figure out what you want to do.”

 

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Noctis stiffens a little. He doesn’t want to face the reality of this situation. What if he _hates_ the job? Worse, maybe – what if he _likes_ it? He doesn’t want to become consumed by work, so that he’s dragged out of bed early on a Saturday morning to argue on conference calls with dumb people. But what else is he passionate about? Does he _have_ a passion?

 

“No,” his father says, “we don’t _have_ to talk about anything, Noctis. I’ve got the rest of the day off. You want to go fishing?”

 

“You don’t even like fishing,” Noctis points out with a grumble. That particular passion is one that he picked up camping with his dad, Clarus, and Gladio, and he’s well aware that his father always partook in that particular hobby quite reluctantly.

 

“No, but you do.”

 

Noctis blinks. He chews at his lip, thinking that particular fact over. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “okay.”

 

\---

 

It’s a terrible idea, of course. It takes a couple of hours to get properly out of the city. It’s late Saturday morning so the weekend traffic is in full swing. This time of year, there’s already frost and the first bits of snow on the ground. It smells like a storm is brewing up in the air, and the clouds are churning overhead in agreement. It’ll be a couple of months before the lake up in the hills outside of town will freeze over, but it’s still cold enough that Noctis has to bundle up in a sweater and he’s got a hat and a ridiculous old pair of gloves of his dad’s on.

 

Noct’s also pretty sure that they haven’t touched the fishing gear since the last time they went on a fishing trip. That was what, four or five years ago? It was one of those typical rite-of-passage hobbies that Clarus – and his dad, by extension – had taught him and Gladio as kids, because that’s what fathers and sons did. Noctis loves it, and he can’t explain why, and from then on, his dad would suffer through the whole fishing thing whenever they did the whole family vacation thing. More often than not, as he got older, it’d be him and Clarus and Gladio, anyway, while his dad was away on some business trip or another. And eventually, it’s something Noct stopped doing for the most part anyway.

 

“I am way too old for this shit,” his father complains good-naturedly. They took his car out here, and it’s definitely not off-roading material, so they’re parked at a trail head and hiking the rest of the way out. It’s not too far, maybe a mile, and relatively easy terrain, but it’s cold and slippery and they’re carrying gear.

 

“Don’t say shit, dad,” Noctis teases, even as he shivers and draws his sweater tighter around his shoulders. His father laughs, though, and yeah, it was a dumb idea, but maybe not the dumbest thing they’ve ever done.

 

There’s nobody else out here, whether it’s the weather or the time of the year or a combination of both. The lake is mostly still, sheltered in a little dip of hills from the rough, early winter. There’s a few birds on the water’s surface, and the bushes rustle with fleeing wildlife, the few animals that aren’t already hibernating, but otherwise, it’s just them.

 

They unfold a couple of old camp chairs and settle down at an appropriate place at the water’s edge. Really, they’ve only got a couple of hours until the sun starts to set, but that’s okay. This is… well. Noctis has to admit, it’s nice. It’s really nice. It’s quiet, and there’s mostly silence between him and his dad, but it’s a comfortable one. There’s always been a certain calm that soothes Noct’s mind when he’s fishing. He doesn’t know what it is. Realistically, it’s a mundane, boring task. But there’s something nice about the act of it. Sitting and waiting, fishing requires a certain level of patience, and small bit of skill that Noctis actually has. He’d managed to win a fishing competition or two when he was younger, which is laughable now, but at the time, he’d been so fucking proud of himself. Like he’d won the world. And in a way, when his dad had placed his silly little trout-shaped trophies on the mantle, he had. That had been the world, being noticed, in his dad’s eyes.

 

“I think the cold chased the fish off,” Noct’s father says after a little while. Neither of them have gotten any bites. Noctis doesn’t care too much, though, dutifully working his line and recasting. There’s the occasional little tug, either from the line catching, or a fish nibbling a little, flighty and uncommitting, but nothing, really.

 

“Your loud mouth is scaring off the fish,” Noctis replies, but his lips are quirking into a strange little smile. He knows this isn’t his dad’s thing, but here they are, anyway. The fact that his father is sacrificing some of his rare, hard-earned free time to indulge him is _something._ And the fact remains that somehow, this is the calmest Noct’s felt in days. The depression is still there. It’s lingering under the surface, and it’s clawed its way in over the past… however long it’s been. It’s not going to be an easy fix. But this is therapeutic and relaxing and it’s soothing away some of the anxiety, at least. It makes Noct feel, at least for the time being, that he can handle this.

 

After a while, Noctis finally gets a bite. He reels it in, and it’s a pretty pathetic, unimpressive little thing, but it’s a clean hook through the fish’s mouth, and he carefully works it out and lets his dad take a picture of him with his catch before he’s kneeling by the water and releasing the fish back in.

 

“At least I’m better at fishing than you are,” Noctis comments with a little laugh as he crouches at the water’s edge, even as the icy little waves lap at the toes of his shoes. He doesn’t move to get up, instead staying there, arms wrapped around his knees, balancing precariously and looking out over the mostly calm, grey-blue surface. The sky overhead is cloudy, still swirling grey, with a new bite of chill to it. It’s going to snow soon, Noctis can already feel it.

 

“You’re better at more than that, Noctis,” his father comments. He doesn’t get up out of his chair, but Noct feels the eyes on the back of his head and he shifts his weight around a little.

 

“Dunno, dad. I feel like I’m… aimlessly following in your footsteps. And that’s not a bad thing, just… it’s just what I feel like I should be doing. And I don’t think I’m passionate about anything else. So all that stuff you said about doing what I want to do… kinda hard to do that, when I don’t _know.”_

 

Noctis hears the crunch of the cold, frost-covered ground behind him as his father stands up. “You’re nineteen, not thirty, Noctis. You don’t just fall asleep one day and wake up an adult. This is real life.”

 

“Can I live in the world where I’ve instantly got it all figured out, instead?” Noctis laughs, and it’s half-bitterness driving him, but he shakes his head. He still doesn’t get up, though he huddles a little closer to the ground, shivering from the combination of the cold, and the weight of the world.

 

“That’d be an incomplete, rather unsatisfactory world, don’t you think?” Noct’s dad stops behind him, and Noctis smiles a bit at the weight of a hand settling on his shoulder, squeezing. “The journey is how you learn who you are. It’s a bit cheap, to end up at the place you want to be, without the struggles that get you there.”

 

“That’s such a _dad_ thing to say,” Noctis sighs out, but he slowly straightens. The cold is working through him, going right to his aching back, and the old injuries are flaring up, making his movements a little slow and clumsy. His dad will know that, of course, but he doesn’t mention it, and Noct is infinitely grateful for _that,_ at least.

 

“Well, I’m a dad, in case you had forgotten, Noctis,” his father replies wryly, with a hint of dark amusement. “Careful, or I’ll start offering up dating advice.”

 

“Honestly,” Noctis grumbles as he shuffles away from the water’s edge, back to their fishing gear. He’s cold, and it’s getting late, and now that he’s caught _something,_ he’s somewhat satisfied. Time to pack up, in other words. “I might not say no to the dating advice. I’m apparently really goddamn bad at it.”

 

“I wouldn’t joke about that. Otherwise I really will give you some,” his father laughs as they set to work packing up the fishing gear, getting it all put away, the chairs folded back up, tackle box and poles tucked under arms as they make the trek back up the path toward the car parked at the trailhead.

 

“Well, it can’t make me any _more_ of a fuckup,” Noctis sighs and shakes his head. Then again, his dad _did_ manage to woo and marry his mom, so really, maybe he’s not entirely opposed to the idea. What had his father said, over one of their incredibly awkward conversations? That he’s got to fight for what he wants? Too bad in this particular situation, it’s not that easy. It’s never that easy.

 

“You going home?” his father asks, later, when they’re back in the car, on the freeway heading into the city. The heat is blasting and it’s slowly working out the chill that’s gotten into Noct’s bones, making him ache and groan. He’s kicked his wet shoes off, too, which is helping his numb toes

 

“If that’s okay,” Noctis frowns a little. He’s chewing on his lower lip, and it’s chapped from the cold, winter air outside, a bit busted up from his incessant worrisome biting. Noct’s torn on that, honestly. He doesn’t want to be alone, but spending time with his dad, as good as it is, as therapeutic as it’s been, is exhausting in a different way. He feels the depression creeping back in though, and being in the apartment with Prompto? That’s hard in a different sort of way.

 

“You’re welcome to stay longer. Any time you want,” his father says, fiddling with the radio, and Noctis has to laugh, because his dad has an affinity for old music, just like every dad ever. Some old Ben E. King song is playing in the background, and Noct idly hums along, fingers drumming against the side of the car door. 

 

“I know, dad. I’ll… try not to be so weird. I’ll try to get better about coming by. I… kinda pushed everyone away, y’know?” Noct’s head is resting up against the glass. He’s half-staring at the passing scenery outside, half trying to get out of the stupid recesses of his mind. It’s too easy to slip into silence, to pretend that everything’s okay.

 

“Maybe you should find someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t your dumb old dad,” his father says quietly, gently, and Noctis stiffens and groans. That advice again.

  
“Iggy’s girlfriend already tried that one on me,” he admits, “I haven’t called them. A stranger is… too weird. They don’t know anything about me.”

 

“Exactly,” his father says, “they don’t know anything about you. It’s easier to figure out what’s going on in your brain when they don’t know everything else. And really, at the end of the day, do you _care_ what a stranger thinks about you?”

 

“I dunno,” Noctis sighs. That stupid song is stuck in his head, and he’s going to be singing it all goddamn day. “Maybe I care. I mean, if an absolute stranger can see what a bad person I am, what hope is there?” it’s a confession he didn’t want to share, but Noct’s flushing and turning his head fully to stare out the window. The scenery isn’t particularly nice. The snow has started to fall, thick, heavy flakes that promise to only come down harder. It’s going to stick, the first _real_ snowfall of the year.

 

“Nobody thinks you’re a bad person. You’re nineteen. Everyone messes up.”

 

Noctis wants to believe it’s true. He sighs. “Prompto thinks I messed up.”

 

“Prompto is _also_ nineteen,” Noct’s father points out with a laugh. “That boy is crazy about you, Noctis. Cut him some slack. I bet he’s just as lost and confused as you are.”

 

It all seems to come back to that awful realization that maybe everyone else is winging it just as much as Noctis is. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Everyone else seems to have their lives together so much more than he does. But… it’s a point that drives it all home, for some reason. Maybe Prompto’s just as confused. Maybe _everyone_ is just as goddamn confused.

 

“We should do dinner again next Friday, too, dad,” Noctis says suddenly. “If that’s okay.”

 

“I’ll clear my schedule,” his father agrees. They fall into a comfortable silence for a while, before, thoughtfully, his dad adds, “Ignis has a girlfriend? I had no idea.”

 

“An _older_ girlfriend,” Noctis smiles a little despite it all.

 

“Interesting.”

 

\----

 

Prompto’s still at work when Noctis gets home. The cat meows and chirps. His dad stopped at a drive thru to get dinner for him to take home, and Noct kicks his wet shoes off as he heads up the back steps and lets himself into the kitchen. The snow’s definitely falling heavier now, beginning to stick, and the back steps are already slippery and a bit treacherous.

 

The urge is already overtaking Noct to crawl into bed, or to get his computer turned on and settled in front of his game. He leaves half of the food in the bag in the microwave – so the cat can’t get into it – and grabs his burger and his fries and a can of soda from the fridge, and makes his way into the bedroom, nudging the door fully open. Noct checks his phone, fires off a quick text to Prompto about being careful on his way home, it’s already icy out, and then he’s turning on his computer and getting lost in his game, chewing thoughtfully on a handful of fries.

 

In typical Noct fashion, an hour turns into two, then more. Suddenly, it’s close to ten o’clock at night, and Noctis realizes that Prompto’s still not home. He pauses his playlist, and tugs his headphones off. His burger’s half-eaten and gone cold by now, and the cat is on his desk, nudging his nose into it.

 

Noct’s debating shooting off another text. It’s a balancing act, playing the role of concerned best friend, and pretending that he’s not really hung up on what they are anymore. It’s one that makes his head hurt, honestly.

 

Prompto makes the decision for him, though, because Noct’s phone vibrates on his desk, and he nearly jumps out of his chair. As a rule, Noctis doesn’t really like phone calls. He doesn’t usually _answer_ phone calls. Prompto knows this, and he doesn’t call. But right now, he’s calling.

 

“Prom?” Noctis frowns as he swipes on the call and lifts the phone to his ear. “Everything okay?”

 

“Noct, hi, I _uh_ , yeah,” Prompto sounds off. He sounds a little panicked, and a whole lot sheepish, and it has Noct’s heart leaping into his chest. “So. Hey. Weird request. You know the store two blocks over? The one with the really good ice cream…”

 

Noctis knows the exact store. They live in a college area, of course, so there’s plenty of twenty-four-hour corner stores, and this one in particular _does_ have very good ice cream. There’s a different store that’s a little closer to their apartment in the opposite direction, but this particular one’s directly between Prompto’s work and home, so Prompto usually defaults there when he wants snacks.

 

“Yeah. What’s up? Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m _fine,_ Noctis,” and the insistence is a little too strong, a bit too forced. Noct’s stomach does flips. Prompto sounds off, and that’s concerning, and his best friend follows that suspicion up with a statement, “I uh, kinda got in a fight on the way home though.”  


“ _What?”_ Noct’s already climbing out of his chair. “Dude, a fight? The fuck, Prom? Are you hurt?!”

 

“Nah,” Prompto laughs self-consciously, “I’m okay. Just, uh, kinda freaked out about walking the rest of the way home alone. I know it’s dumb, but… think you can come meet me?”

 

Noct’s already got his boots tugged on, and he’s bending over, balancing the phone between ear and shoulder as he laces them up. He doesn’t bother with a scarf or gloves, and he’s already half-way out the door before his jacket gets tugged on fully, the buttons undone and the front open. “Fuck, Prompto, I’m on the way.”

 

It’s probably a really dumb move. Noctis isn’t exactly a big guy. He’s got barely any height on Prompto at all – a negligible amount, maybe an inch at best – and he’s probably thinner than Prompto is. He’s all lean muscle, yeah, thanks to his time lifting with Gladio and some ridiculously good genes, but that doesn’t mean Noct looks it. He does have a certain presence to him, though, carrying himself with an air of ‘don’t fuck with me, I’m on a mission.’ In any case, it’s a bit of luck that Noctis makes his way there uneventfully. He’s had the good sense to button up his jacket, at least. The cold is burning into his fingers and making his ears numb, but he ignores that, working through the snow that’s falling thick and heavy, and there’s a great heave of relief when Noct steps inside the store.

 

Prompto’s in there, waiting, chatting it up with the store attendant, a bag of ice pressed up to a cheek. He’s a bit of a mess, with a nose that’s streaked with blood. The bell on the door rings when Noct steps in, and Prompto looks his direction, lifting the ice up, revealing a nice, blossoming red mark on the side of his face. It’s going to bruise something fierce.

 

“What _happened?!”_ Noctis gapes a little, but there’s relief, too, because Prompto doesn’t look too worn for wear. He notices, too, that Prompto’s knuckles are scraped and bruised.

 

“Some guy jumped me on the way home from the studio,” Prompto shrugs, though his cheeks flush, “wanted my wallet and my phone. Wasn’t about to let him off easy.”

 

Noctis gapes a little, “Prom, you know you’re supposed to just _give_ someone your stuff when they mug you, right? What if he had a gun?!”

 

“That’s what I told him,” the store attendant, obviously a bored college kid, probably high, says with a shake of his head. “Your friend’s a crazy motherfucker. Someone robs the store, I hand it all over and just hope they don’t shoot me in the face when they’re done.”

 

Prompto scoffs, “yeah, that’s _store_ money though. I don’t exactly have the money to buy a new phone. And it’s not like I provoked the dude. I punched him in the face and took the fuck off. Outran him. Guess all that distance running paid off, huh, Noct?” he manages a pathetic little grin, even though it’s immediately followed up by a wince, the way his cheeks stretch with the effort of it.

 

“You’re _stupid,_ Prompto,” Noctis sighs out, and really, he doesn’t know how to feel. He’s terrified worried, relieved, oddly _pissed_ at Prompto for doing something so dumb… but, more than anything, he’s feeling weirdly protective. Pissed at someone for taking advantage of his best friend, the best goddamn person he knows.

 

“How much for the ice?” he asks the guy working, with a shake of his head, as Prompto winces again and presses the bag back up to his face.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” the employee shakes his head. “You guys are here all the time. I’m just glad he’ll be okay.” He looks down at Prompto’s bruised, scraped up knuckles, and shakes his head. “Least you got a good punch on him.”

 

“Dude will think better of mugging some innocent looking kid again,” Prompto says with another of those triumphant little smiles that leaves him groaning and pressing the ice closer into his face.

 

“Yeah, next time he’ll have a knife or a gun,” Noct sighs. “Want me to call Iggy or Gladio? We should probably get you to a hospital or something, just in case…”

 

“ _No,”_ Prompto says suddenly, insistently, “c’mon, Noct, don’t drag anyone else into this shit. I _really_ don’t wanna get one of their lectures right now. Can we just go home?”

 

Noct frowns and mulls it over. Really, it’s only a ten minute walk back home. Prompto’s in good enough spirits, and nobody followed him here, so chances are, they’re okay. Likely, it was some idiot who thought they’d make a quick, easy buck scaring someone, and they got chased off. And by now, the snow’s fallen heavy enough to cover up Prompto’s tracks, anyway.

 

“Whatever. Let’s get you home,” Noctis sighs, conceding defeat there, and throws a bill on the counter anyway to cover for the ice, despite the employee’s protests.

 

It’s a little surreal, walking home from the store with Prompto. The snow’s already halfway up to their knees, making the trek slow and arduous. The wind has died down, at least, and the cold isn’t as bad, it’s just wet and sticky, snow packing into the top of Noct’s boots and caking around Prompto’s jeans as they walk. It’s an early winter, too early for so much snow, really. Especially in the city, where the snowfalls are usually milder, but nothing about this particular year makes sense. The walk is reminiscent of the one they’d made to a similar store, from Ignis’s place, only a couple of weeks earlier. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like such a vast distance has erupted between them. Or maybe it hasn’t, because their shoulders nudge together through their coats as they walk, and Prompto’s fingers are itching like he’s craving nicotine.

 

“You can smoke if you want,” Noctis says, “I’ll hold your ice for you.” Which is a sacrifice in itself, really, because Noct hadn’t bothered with his gloves, and his fingers are numb. He doesn’t do well with cold.  


Prompto laughs a little, and chases the gesture with another groan at the strain of it. “Nah, dude. I really gotta quit. Otherwise I’ll stress-smoke the entire pack tonight. You’re pissed, aren’t you, Noct?”

 

Noctis thinks that over, carefully. He’s pissed, yeah, in a sense. He thinks it was dumb. He’s annoyed that Prompto risked his life over a fucking cell phone and a handful of bills that he had in his wallet. But… no, he’s not mad at his best friend. Confused, yeah, a bit of a mess? Definitely.

 

“It was dumb,” Noct says, finally, scuffing at a bit of snow as they make their way over a drift that’s built up, the wind pushing the snow in weird ways and creating little waves and crevices around the corner of the street they’re turning. “I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I was really pissed though, wouldn’t I?”

 

Prompto frowns thoughtfully at that. Their shoulders brush together again, as they walk. “Guess so,” he says finally, “but… I think I’m the one being a shitty friend. I dunno, Noct. I’m… everything feels so messed up now, doesn’t it?”

 

They’re almost home, and Noct’s grateful. “A little,” he admits, trying to downplay it. Everything’s messed up. There’s the urge to get his arms around Prompto. Noct’s fingers are twitching, and he shoves them roughly in his pockets, because it’d be so easy to reach out, to take Prompto’s hand and twine their fingers together. Noct’s not sure he can possibly fucking handle another rejection, though. He’s still all lost in this depressive fog, and even if it feels like he can maybe claw his way up and out of it, any little missteps will have him tumbling back down.

 

Prompto looks like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. They make their way up the back steps, and it’s slippery and a bit treacherous. When Prompto slips and starts to tumble down, he grabs roughly onto Noct’s arm, and there’s a sudden little burst of heat, something that has Noctis reeling, gripping onto the railing himself, to keep them both from toppling over from the sudden momentum of it.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto says sheepishly. He doesn’t draw away immediately though, and they make the rest of the climb up, arm in arm, only untangling from each other once they’re inside and there’s no real reason to hold on anymore. Noctis kicks his boots off by the heater in the kitchen, and he’s well aware that it’s going to melt and make a mess everywhere. His coat gets hunt over the back of a chair. His pants are covered in snow, and really, they’re both a mess. Prompto, especially, needs to change. His jeans are caked in snow, every crease packed white with hard lumps, and some of them shake loose and scatter across the kitchen floor as his shoes come off, and his jacket is thrown on top of Noct’s.

 

The cat comes running, and is curiously swiping at a little ball of snow with his paw, seemingly unsure of how to feel. Noct smiles a little at the sight of it, then he turns his attention back to his best friend. “If you won’t let me take you to the hospital, you gotta let me clean you up.” Noct’s surprisingly himself a little here. He doesn’t normally take control, and their situation, their friendship, is in a precarious place. He’s already heading to the bathroom though, very no-nonsense, and Prompto follows.

 

“Nothing’s broken, Noct. I’m _fine.”_

 

“You got hit in the face,” Noctis points out, opening the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Ignis keeps it well stocked, and that’s a damn good thing, because Noct’s not the type to buy antiseptic lotion or rubbing alcohol or gauze. “I spent a really goddamn long time in the hospital when I was a kid, Prompto. I’m not messing around with a head wound.”

 

Prompto sighs, but that’s how they find themselves pressed closer than they have been in a while. Prompto’s sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter, Noctis leaning in closer, wiping the dried blood from his nose with a warm, damp cloth, spreading some of the lotion over the little cut that he’s got jagged over one nostril.

 

“Feeling dizzy at all?” Noctis frowns as he rubs fingers light and gentle over the side of Prompto’s face, and his best friend winces and draws back instinctively. There’s a pretty significant bump there, even though the swelling isn’t as bad as it could be. It’s gonna look one hell of a bruised, gross mess in the morning. “Like you’re gonna throw up? Headache?”

 

“Well, duh, my head hurts a little,” Prompto laughs, and then regrets it, wincing, “Noct, dude, I don’t have a concussion.”

 

“You don’t know that for sure,” Noctis sighs, but really, Prompto seems okay. He’s alert, enough to grumble and complain about being doting on, at least. He draws back, but there’s a moment. At least, Noct thinks there’s a moment. His hands are planted on either side of Prompto, on the edge of the counter. Their eyes meet, and there’s a long, lingering gaze, one that has Noct’s cheeks flushing, has him shuffling his feet, leaning in instinctively, closing a bit of the distance.

 

Prompto makes a quiet sound, and it snaps Noctis out of it. He can’t. He still doesn’t _know_ what he’s doing, and he’s not in any place to be doing any of this shit. Neither of them are, Prompto’s a mess, emotions are running high. Noctis jumps back a little, and reaches for the bag of ice, half-melted and discarded into the sink for the moment.

 

“Here,” he wraps the damp cloth around the bag, and offers it up to Prompto. “I uh, think we have some gross frozen peas or something in the freezer, if you’d rather have that. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

 

Prompto looks a little dazed. His cheeks are flushed, under the brightly blossoming bruise, and their fingers brush as he takes the ice back from Noctis. Noct doesn’t pull his hand away, and there’s something about the simple contact, their fingers brushing, that has his heart leaping into his chest, a newfound warmth spreading fire through him,  one that isn’t just his skin burning from the temperature shift.

 

“This is okay,” Prompto says, with a choked little forced laugh, one that’s rough in his throat, and he presses the bag back up to his face.

 

“I’m gonna stay up with you,” Noct decides, “just in case. Head wounds are fucking messy, Prom.”

 

Prompto doesn’t complain, even if he looks like he’s about to. Really, it’s a good distraction, Noctis decides, because his game is forgotten. His little holed up corner of his room is the last thing on his mind, even as he retreats to strip out of his wet clothes, to put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

 

They end up on the couch, both changed into nice warm clothes with a blanket tucked around. Prompto’s got the ice pressed up against his cheek with one hand, awkwardly eating his cold burger with the other. There’s a dumb movie on TV, some old romcom that Prompto’s got an affinity for. Noctis figures that he can at least let his friend pick what they’re watching, even if neither of them are paying attention.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says suddenly, polishing off the last bites of his burger and reaching for the fries, “you were with your dad. I’m sorry, Noctis, I’m a fucking dumbass, I didn’t even ask how that went.”

 

“It went okay,” Noctis frowns though. He’s stiffened a little, and he’s grateful that there’s space between them. They’re huddled under the same blanket, but there’s a pillow in the space between their bodies, and the cat is wedged up warm and cozy against Prompto’s side. It’s a good buffer. Keeps Noct from losing his mind here. “I guess, at least. My dad… he thinks I should talk to someone. Cuz. You know. It’s been hard lately.”

 

“He’s probably right,” Prompto says slowly, carefully, tipping his head to look at Noctis. Noct flushes, and finds he can’t quite meet the gaze, looking down at the blanket, fingers playing lazily with the edge. “I mean. I talked to someone in high school. Just the counsellor, but… it helped.”

 

“You did?” Noctis blinks. He shifts a little, because he had no idea. Why is he still learning all these things? Why hasn’t he figured out his friends yet? “I didn’t know, Prom, shit, I’m sorry.”

 

Prompto shrugs, and Noctis sees the movement, out of the corner of his eye. “Why would you know? I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t have the best time, when I was a kid. Even when we started hanging out, I had a lot of issues, y’know. Still do. Don’t think I’m worthy of being friends with anyone, sometimes. It’s mostly better now though. Sometimes, though…”

 

Noctis blinks, and he carefully lifts his gaze. Prompto’s frowning, chewing on a fry, and his fingers are shifting, twitching like he’s got that nervous itch again, like he needs to hold onto something. Noctis wishes he could reach out and tangle their hands together. It’s something he would’ve done, just a month earlier, maybe without thought. Right now though, he can’t do it.

 

“… I know how you feel,” Noct says, instead. He doesn’t feel worthy. Fuck, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Maybe I will. Talk to someone. I dunno. Aranea gave me a card…”

 

“I can go with you,” Prompto offers, and then he flushes and immediately backtracks, “I mean. Not to your like, actual meeting or whatever. But I can wait outside, or something, or… we can pretend this never happened, that we aren’t talking about this. I dunno, Noct. I just… I want things to be _different._ I want you to…”

 

Prompto trails off, looking thoughtful, maybe wistful, maybe embarrassed all to hell. Noctis isn’t really sure. Prompto wants what? For them to go back to being just normal best friends? Or does he want more, does he want what Noctis wants?

 

“Might hold you to that,” Noct says quietly. He chews on his lip, and he tastes the bitter coppery blood blossoming in his mouth. “Prom?” it’s a question.

  
“Yeah?” Prompto tips his head, though there’s another heavy silence between them for a moment before. And another long silence after, as Noctis carefully picks his words here, debates if it’s even worth saying.

 

“Why’d you call me?” Noctis asks. He meets Prompto’s gaze, just for a second, and it’s embarrassing, how fast Noct’s heart is pounding, how red he’s sure his face is, how so goddamn uncertain he feels about _everything._ “I mean… I’m not exactly intimidating. Or good at dealing with stress. You would’ve been way better off calling Gladio. Or even Iggy.”

 

“I guess,” Prompto admits, frowning. He’s the one to break their gaze, looking away quickly. He licks the grease and salt from the fries off his fingers, and it’s more of that nervous twitching. “… honestly, you’re the only one I could think to call. I guess maybe Gladio would’ve been a better choice, but… well. I was kinda freaked out Noct. And you’re the only one I wanted to see. Talking to you, it _uh_ , it calmed me down, y’know?”

 

The words are casual, or at least, Prompto’s trying to make them sound that way. Noct’s heart is thumping in his chest though. They’re best friends. That’s all they are now, and he keeps telling himself that. But why is his heart trying to bust its way out of his ribs? Why are his fingers twitching, as he fists them into the blankets. Why is he leaning in closer, closing a bit of the distance, until their shoulders nudge close? The cat hisses under the blankets, and crawls out, jumping lazily to the floor and eyeing them reproachfully from a distance.

 

Slowly, though, Prompto tips his head in, until it’s resting on Noct’s shoulder. Somehow, it’s everything.

 

“I’m always by your side, Prom,” Noct’s voice is a bit unsteady, and he’s pretty sure it sounds dumb, but the words come out automatically, like his brain’s shut off and he’s speaking directly from the heart. And he is, really. “Thanks. For calling me.”

 

“Thanks. For coming,” Prompto replies.

 

Noct’s heart is pounding. He’s in love, isn’t he? With his best friend, with the person who he has to be _just_ best friends with. At least for a while. At least while he works shit out.

 

Before he goes to bed, Noctis types out a rough, pathetic email to the address listed on the little card Aranea gave him, the one that he’s tucked away in the corner of a notebook for safe keeping. He thinks he should probably be doing it for himself. He’s not though, not really. He’s doing it for his dad. He’s doing it for Prompto. He’s doing it for the friends that are counting on him, relying on him, holding him up while he fumbles through all of this.

 

Maybe it’s the wrong reason, and maybe it’s stupid, but Noctis thinks that two steps forward, and one step back, is a step in the right direction. So he sends the email, and he’ll probably have a meltdown on Monday morning, when he gets the response, but he’ll deal with it then.

 

The day was exhausting in such an intense, emotional whirlwind kind of way, that Noctis sleeps, at least. He’s survived the day, and he’s done a big number of hard things. Way more than one. It’s a success in that aspect, right?

 

That song from the radio earlier is still stuck in his head. Noctis hums it into his pillow as he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got really meta. play the 'find the tongue-in-cheek ffxv references' game in this chapter. oof. 
> 
> sorry these chapters are taking a while. writing someone out of depression without taking 30 chapters to do it is hard, okay? noctis had a good day here, but... it's not an easy day, and it's not the end of his struggle by far. oh man. writing and rewriting, i've redone this chapter like 4 times. i think i'm good. we have an outline to get us to the final stretch. <3 onward to victory. 
> 
> thank you forever for reading and following and sticking through, as always, yall know where to find me on social media at this point, lmao. @thatdest on twitter, @destatree on tumblr. see y'all next week!


	27. We're Almost Here Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re close, close enough that he could lean in, just a little. The snow falling down between them in soft, gentle flakes, it sets the scene. It’s like something out of a fairytale, or a dumb romance novel. Of course, Noctis looks down, quickly, at his feet.

Monday morning, Noctis definitely regrets his decision to send that particular email.

 

He’s a master at ignoring his email, and somehow, the dark recesses of depression have made it even easier to evade things he doesn’t want to face. Luna’s mostly switched to texting him instead of emailing, though, and Noctis thinks she’s probably realized he needs a bit of a push. So, the only emails he really gets now are spam ones, or school-related.

 

Somehow, though, as he crawls out of bed – Prompto waking him up with a whole bunch of cheerful yelling and the smell of bacon wafting through the apartment – Noct remembers that he’d been stupid, weak and dumb, and that he’d emailed the stupid school counselling office. And as good as he normally is at ignoring things, _now_ that he’s remembered, it’s an itch. It’s got him snappy and anxious and terrified to check and see if they’ve replied. He hopes that they didn’t, but at the same time, how pathetic does he have to be, for a school counsellor to outright ignore him?

 

“You’re grumpy,” Prompto points out, as Noctis wanders out. He’s thrown on a pair of tight black pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt. It’s a cold day. The snow had continued well into Sunday afternoon, and honestly, Noctis had expected them to cancel class today. It’d cleared overnight though, and even though there’s _way_ more snow than Insomnia is used to, nothing’s been closed. Too bad.

 

At least it’d been a cozy Sunday, and Noctis had definitely hunched over his computer playing video games. After a while, Prompto had snuck into his room and curled up on Noct’s bed to work on some homework, and they’d spent the day not really talking, but falling into a silence that’s almost comfortable again. Progress, right?

 

“I hate the cold,” Noctis grumbles. It makes his joints ache. “You know that.”

 

“That’s why I made you breakfast,” Prompto says, happily enough, and he passes over a plate of bacon and waffles, thick with syrup and peanut butter. “And hot chocolate.” Prompto’s spirits are surprisingly high, given that one freckled cheek has swollen up magnificently, and no amount of concealer can quite disguise the fact that he was in a fight. Noctis had reassured him the day before that it made him look like a badass. Prompto had grumbled and poked at his tender cheek and winced about it.

 

Noct’s pretty sure the breakfast has enough sugar to put him into a diabetic coma, and he accepts the steaming mug and sips at his cocoa. Means he doesn’t have to check his email. His fingers are itching, and they keep drifting to his phone, next to him on the table. It also means he doesn’t have to go outside. Double benefit, right there.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, as Prompto loads up his own plate and settles down next to him at the table. Breakfast is mostly quiet, but Noct keeps catching Prompto sneaking glances of him out of the corner of his eye, one where they both flush and glance quickly back down at their plates.

 

“You gonna play in the snow with me after class, Noct?” Prompto asks, breaking the silence. There’s still… _something_ between them, something that has Noctis both hopeful and terrified, honestly. He’s not sure if he wants it to keep going, or if he just wants it to be easy again. For them to be best friends. Maybe he wants both. He doesn’t know if he can have both.

 

“I’ve gotta harass Aranea into helping me finish my stupid project,” Noctis groans a little at that. She’s always helpful, even if she gives him a hard time. Probably just cuz of Ignis, but still. He hopes she doesn’t ask about whether or not he’s taken her advice. He doesn’t want to face that. He still hasn’t checked his email.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto says suddenly, “we have like. A test this week too, don’t we?”

 

“Yep,” Noctis sighs. It’s a bit overwhelming. He’s been falling behind on his studying, too, which really is… not good. It’s too easy to get lost in all the finer details, like _figuring out who the hell he is,_ while ignoring all the other stuff, that’s arguably more important, at least in the short term.

 

“I just want to take pictures, Noct,” Prompto sighs, “I don’t care about math. Or science. I mean. It’s nice, but…”

 

Noctis takes a bite of his bacon, and washes it down with some cocoa. “I hear ya, Prom. At least you know what you wanna do. I… think I’m more confused than ever.”

 

Prompto chews on his lip, nervous. He’s finished his own food, and he’s tapping his fork against the edge of his plate. “How’d things go with your dad, anyway?” The question is a tentative one,

 

“Good,” Noctis can admit that. “At least… good, I think. He wants me to work for him a bit. See if I like it.” He leaves out the part where he’s not sure about it all. Where he’s worried that following in his dad’s footsteps is what he’ll end up doing, and that he’ll be okay with that. It sucks, a little, and Noctis doesn’t know what’s worse, rebelling, or following the status quo. This adulthood thing is increasingly difficult.

 

“Well, you’ll know, at least, right?” Prompto says. He’s all restless energy, hopping up out of his chair to rinse off his plate and get it into the dishwasher. “I mean. It’s better than spending four years getting a degree you’ll hate in the end, huh?”

 

“I guess,” Noctis leans back. He’s lost his appetite, as usual, but at least he’s eaten something. “I dunno, Prom. If I hate it… then what?”

 

“Then we start a business,” Prompto says with a laugh, “you get your big fancy business degree and we’ll start a marketing business or something. You do all the boring work and I’ll have fun taking pictures.”

 

Noct only rolls his eyes, as Prompto sweeps in to gather up his plate, too, dumping the remnants into the trash and leaving it in the dishwasher. “That sounds like a good deal for _you,_ sounds like crap for me.” It’s an enticing thought though. And really, it’s only a thought, because they’re young, they can’t even figure out feelings and sex and basic life stuff, let alone fathom a world where they’re making their own way entirely. Still, it’s nice. Thinking that maybe there’s a future for them, beyond the walls of the apartment. A future that isn’t so uncertain, even with a friendship that’s still so cracked and broken in so many ways.

 

“Dunno about that. You’re good at that stuff. Better than you think,” Prompto’s flushing a little as he reaches over Noct’s shoulder to grab his half-empty (half-full?) mug and dump the rest into a travel mug, securing the top. “Come on. We probably gotta leave early, snow’s gonna slow us down…”

 

Their fingers brush as Noct takes the mug. It’s a lot. Everything is a lot.

 

They’re bundled up in boots and coats, Noctis with a pair of leather gloves and Prompto with some brightly coloured wool mittens, as they make their way to campus. The sidewalks have been mostly cleared by now, but there’s still a thin layer of packed down snow that’s slippery on its own, and ice in places that makes it outright treacherous. Noct’s weighed down with what feels like his entire goddamn collection of textbooks in his bag, travel mug tucked in a side compartment, and he doesn’t care _what_ Ignis has to say, he’s buying the e-book version next semester, because it’s heavy. Prompto’s taking dumb selfies of himself to post online, and he’s _very_ pleased about the wintery filters he’s found.

 

“I don’t wanna be in your dumb photos,” Noctis grumbles out, but Prompto’s grinning like a maniac and angling them so Noct’s disgruntled face is in plain view anyway. He sighs, and reaches a gloved hand up to block the phone’s camera lens.

 

“Too bad, Noct. You’re gonna be in my photos,” Prompto teases, nudging their shoulders together. It feels like old times, at least. Noctis rolls his eyes, but he slows. He lets Prompto get a few feet ahead, and leans over the edge of one tall, crusted snowbank to grab a handful of snow. It’s warmer today than it has been, and the snow’s melted _just_ enough to have that wet quality to it that makes it the _perfect_ packing snow.

 

“Hey Prom,” Noctis calls out. Prompto turns around, midstep, and he flails and tries to duck, but it’s too late, as Noct aims a loosely packed snowball right at his face. It hits him square in the forehead, and bursts on contact, leaving wet trails of melting snow trickling down Prompto’s red cheeks. For a moment, Noct freezes, thinking maybe he’s pushed it too far, because Prompto looks completely taken aback, tensing and almost dropping his phone, then--

 

“Dick move, Noct, I wasn’t even looking!” Prompto laughs though, and he’s grabbing a handful of snow from the embankment, aiming at Noctis, and Noct’s turning and ducking his head down as it explodes all over his shoulder. They’re both laughing though, and Prompto turns and runs, Noct chasing after him as they rush down the sidewalk in a panting mess. Noct’s cheeks are red and burning in the cold early winter air, his breath coming out in great puffs in front of him. He’s damn well aware that Prompto’s faster, could probably outrun him the whole way – except it’s slippery, and Prompto slips, stumbles, arms wobbling comically, almost slow motion, before he goes down. Noctis damn well almost trips over him, with his own momentum, coming to a heaving, panting halt, hands on his knees, before he straightens and offers a gloved hand to his best friend.

 

“Caught ya,” Noctis says, with a bit of a pained laugh, his lungs heaving with the effort of running. Prompto’s laughing too, gripping at Noct’s hand and it’s a joint effort, hauling Prompto back to his feet. There’s electricity, yeah, but there’s something more, going back to the fact that they’re best friends. They can survive this.

 

“Pretty sure you always manage to catch me, Noct,” Prompto grins, brushing packed snow off the knees of his jeans somewhat unsuccessfully. It’s good though, and they both laugh, and it’s a bit easier. They’re best friends. They’ll survive this.

 

Maybe a bit of ludic behavior on a cold winter morning is just what Noctis needed to remind himself of that.

 

\---

 

Their class is boring. Noct’s usually half-decent at paying attention. Prompto’s the one with the attention span of a goldfish, always doodling in the margins of his paper or sneaking out his tablet to read fanfiction or look at fanart. Today though they’re both fidgety. Their thighs keep nudging together. The seat feels too-small, with Noct’s coat thrown over the back and his gloves stuffed down the side. His fingers are itching, still, and he’s staring at the slides on the screen without actually assigning much meaning to them. He’s thinking about a lot of things.

 

His dad. The whole interning thing that’s got his stomach doing flips. The stupid off-hand comment Prompto made, the one that’s more about the fact that his best friend sees them having some sort of future together.

 

The fact that things seem to be going back to normal, and Noctis doesn’t know if he wants them to or not. Prompto looks so goddamn kissable, and Noct’s very well aware of the way his cheeks are flushing as he sits, one elbow crooked against the desk, head tipped to the side and resting in his hand. His gaze keeps drifting to his best friend, to the way Prompto’s done his hair today, to the fact that he can see the swollen, bruised cheek, half-heartedly covered, but still somewhat noticeable…

 

Prompto shifts and Noctis quickly turns his attention back down. He scoots back a little in his chair, hand slipping into his bag, and he pulls out his phone. He’s put it off long enough, hasn’t he? He shouldn’t be so goddamn nervous, but he checks his email. There’s a few messages about campus being open – “be careful! It’s slippery!” – and a couple of email reminders from various professors about upcoming deadlines. And then, a reply to his own email.

 

Noctis closes his eyes. He feels like the professor is staring directly at him, about to swoop in and catch him on his phone in the middle of class, never mind the fact that he’s done it before. It’s just the embarrassing loop his mind is stuck on.

 

It’s a simple email, when he dares to look. There’s an appointment available at the end of the week, a thirty minute slot. Really, thirty minutes isn’t bad. It’s a starting point. Then again, Noctis sucks at talking for thirty seconds, and that leaves him with twenty-nine-and-a-half minutes left after that to fill the space.

 

He can’t really back out now though, can he? Well. He can. But Noct tips his head to the side, and sneaks another pathetic little glance at his best friend. Noct… well. He wants to keep taking steps forward. He keeps finding himself lost and confused, and he keeps retreating again. It’s a constant cycle of two forward, one back, over and over again.

 

So he replies to the email, super quick, confirming the appointment. At least it’s during the afternoon, even if it’s on a Friday, his day off.

 

He did his hard thing for the day, and at least that’s off Noct’s plate. He did good today. Tentatively, Noct nudges the toe of his boot into Prompto’s, and they share a quick, awkward exchange of smiles. It’s okay. Everything is okay.

 

The rest of the class passes by uneventfully. Noct’s pretty sure that as the week winds down, as it gets closer to the whole ‘holy shit I have to talk to somebody about my life’ thing, he’ll start panicking. Right now though, he’s in a weird place where it’s far away enough that he can push it aside. So Noct’s mood is a bit better when he and Prompto cross the campus to the library where he’s supposed to meet Aranea. Prompto’s tagging along. He was supposed to work, but after the whole Saturday thing, they told him to take a few days. Noct’s not really opposed to the idea, since he’s pretty sure his best friend is even more of a studying slacker than he is.

 

Because college is a time of budding adulthood and growing into one’s self, naturally, the campus quad has been turned into a giant playground for people way too old to be making snow forts and building snowmen, but, hey, that’s college. Prompto whines a little as they pass it all by, and he nudges their shoulders.

 

“You sure we gotta go deal with Aranea? She scares me, still, Noct. Let’s play in the snow instead.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes. There’s a certain appeal, of course. Aranea’s… well, she’s one of those people, though, who Noct oddly wants to impress. She’s older, wiser, and she doesn’t need to be wasting her time on him. And she’s one of those people who makes _that_ fact very clear. Noct’s pretty sure she won’t tolerate a fuckup from him. Somehow, that’s encouragement enough, a shove in the right direction that he sorely needs.

 

“You don’t have to come along. I gotta, though. This project is kicking my ass, and she’s been helping.”

 

Prompto longingly watches some kids toss snowballs at each other, but he shuffles along next Noctis.

 

Aranea looks just the slightest bit surprised to see the two of them together. Well, as surprised as Aranea is capable of looking. Really, she seems more amused than anything. “Didn’t expect to see you, Prompto,” she comments, with an arched brow, giving Noctis a _look._ Noctis is proud when he offers up a _look_ back, heaving a sigh and sitting down in a library chair. She’s apparently lost her office again, so she’s taken up residence in an upstairs study room. Someday she’ll get a real one.

 

“You know, this is actually pretty good,” Aranea comments idly as she’s reading through his nearly-finalized project. Noctis can’t help but flush a little, even as a smile tugs at his lips. He’d taken most of her suggestions to heart, and honestly, it’s not bad. “I mean. Obviously an undergrad paper. Better than something I’d expect from a freshman though. There might be hope for you yet, Noctis.”

 

Noct’s well aware that’s a pretty big compliment. Prompto gives him a thumbs up. He’s attempting to study for a midterm, but Noct glances over his shoulder and sees that Prompto’s half-assed flicking through the pages of a textbook on his tablet, too fast to be properly reading them.

 

“Thanks,” Noct manages, aware that he sounds dumb, lame. It’s not much of an accomplishment, really, but he’s proud. It’s the first major assignment of his college career, and he’s somehow managed to get through it, to come up with something that isn’t entirely half-assed, and not even entirely procrastinated. Given his funk and state of mind, lately, too, it’s an accomplishment.

 

Maybe he’s not so dissimilar from his dad, after all.

 

Aranea, of course, proceeds to tear apart his assignment in a thousand different little ways, but it’s helpful, and really, Noct finds he doesn’t mind so much. Later, he’ll probably obsess over how his best isn’t good enough, when the other doubts start creeping in and fucking with his mind, but that’s not an issue right now. Especially not with the way Prompto keeps offering little smiles in his direction.

 

They’re just getting packed up to leave, later, when Noctis stops. “Uh, Aranea?” he says, hesitantly. She’s getting ready to go, too, wearing a black leather coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck.

 

“Spit it out,” she says, hand on a hip, a smirk on her face, “Iggy’s got dinner waiting for me, y’know. Man can cook.”

 

Noct’s well aware of _that_ fact, and there’s a strange pang of jealousy, that his oldest friend has moved on from cooking meals for _him_ to cooking meals for his maybe-girlfriend. “Just thought you should know. I’m talking to someone on Friday. About… stuff.”

 

Aranea, just for a moment, looks properly surprised. She masks it almost immediately, though her expression softens. “Good,” she says, with a curt nod. Then, hardening again, she looks at Prompto. “Make sure he goes, huh?”

 

Prompto nods, slowly, though he looks dumbfounded. Noctis hadn’t mentioned the appointment to him, after all. To his credit, Prompto doesn’t bring it up, as they walk home from campus. It’s already dark out, the nights getting longer and the days shorter, this time of year. It’s a slow, steady walk, and the air is hanging heavy between them again. Another storm is brewing, Noctis can feel it. It really is going to be one hell of an unusual winter, and he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

 

“Friday. You want me to come with you?” Prompto says, suddenly, when they’re almost home. They’ve been walking mostly in silence. It’s a nice night though. The snow crunches under their feet, and everything feels a bit like it’s frozen in time. There aren’t many cars out, either, because there’s that threat of storm, and the roads are still bad.

 

Noctis chews on his lip. The air is getting colder, and he wishes he had a scarf. The air puffs around them, and it’s hard, in moments like this, not to fall back to a memory not so far off, of Prompto smoking a cigarette, puffing smoke into the air as they had a conversation about relationships and friendship. Where Prompto told him that they needed to just be best friends. So that’s what they’re doing, and it’s still really hard.

 

It feels both just like yesterday, and like a million years ago. Funny, how time works that way to distort memories.

 

“If you don’t mind,” Noctis says, slowly. His hands are twitching in his gloves. He crosses his arms over his chest, and hunches over a little, partially because it’s awkward, partially because he’s been lugging that stupid backpack around all day, and the cold still has his back aching from the old injuries.

 

“Wouldn’t have offered if I did,” Prompto points out. “I… I think it’s a good thing, Noct. I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but…”

 

Noctis doesn’t know what to say about that. There’s a silence between them again, the crunch of snow, a little gust of wind swirling up behind them and blowing cold air up the back of Noct’s coat, making him shiver.

 

“Hey. I uh… I told my dad. About things. About me,” Noctis says, suddenly, as they wind their way to the back steps of the building. Their landlord shoveled them off at some point for them, and Noct’s grateful for that, because neither of them are ambitious enough to do that. They’ve been salted, too, and even though the salt’s going to ruin the leather of Noct’s boots, it makes them less slippery.

 

“Yeah?” Prompto tries to sound casual, but Noctis swears he hears a hitch in his best friend’s voice. He stops at the top of the steps and side-steps, turning around to catch his best friend’s gaze. They left the outside light on, and it’s shining, a dim halo of light in the darkness, the first little snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky again. Out here, like this, it feels like they’re in a different world.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis replies, frowning. “He’s cool with it. I think. I… I guess I was dumb, being so worried.”

 

Prompto takes a step forward. Noctis feels like his lungs are full of water, or sand, or just something heavy that he can’t quite push past. It’s a bit like drowning. Prompto’s hand brushes over his shoulder, and even through several layers of clothing, the touch is electric, in ways that it shouldn’t be.

 

“You’re not dumb, Noct,” Prompto replies, quietly. “Just… it’s a lot. For anyone. You’ve got a lot going on.”

 

Noctis nods dumbly. It’s all he can really think to do. They’re close, close enough that he could lean in, just a little. The snow falling down between them in soft, gentle flakes, it sets the scene. It’s like something out of a fairytale, or a dumb romance novel. Of course, Noctis looks down, quickly, at his feet. He turns around, and he tugs a glove off to fumble with the door. It’s cold, after all, and it’s way too easy to fall into something, to make the same mistake over again.

 

“Wanna throw a pizza into the oven?” he asks over his shoulder at Prompto, stamping his feet and shaking some of the loose snow free onto the mat Ignis brought by for the door, anticipating the cold weather in a way that only Ignis is capable of.

 

“Sure,” Prompto smiles and nods, and the moment is lost. For now, at least.

 

\---

 

The rest of the week flies by in some places. In others, it’s a slow crawl. It’s all dictated by Noct’s mood, of course. Because some moments are good ones. Others are terrible, insecurity and fear and impending doom creeping in and making it impossible to crawl out of bed. Tuesday’s a bad day. Noctis hates himself a little when he slips out of his afternoon class halfway through, because the urge to run and hide strikes him out of nowhere. He doesn’t even know what triggered it, but suddenly, when the professor announced their midway break, Noctis feels like bolting. He suddenly feels like everyone’s staring at him, like everyone _knows_ that something’s wrong with him, and before he can get a grip of himself, he’s halfway across campus, his coat hanging open and his gloves still stuffed into his bag.

 

He’s glad Prompto was back at work, and that he didn’t have to fess up about the shame of having a meltdown mid class. It’s just one of those days. Noctis ends up playing video games until partway through the evening, and then he crawls into bed, half-heartedly listening to a podcast. His heart feels heavy, and there’s an emptiness drifting through him. When he hears Prompto come in, there’s this horrible, wrenching urge to call out to his best friend to come to his side. But what would Noctis do? Cry? Bury his face in Prompto’s chest and blubber on about being an idiot?

 

Noctis stays silent and he hopes that he’ll have a better day tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep.

 

Wednesday is a better day, at least. Noctis hands in his finalized project, and he’s pretty damn pleased with himself, especially since a good number of his classmates look exhausted and sleep-deprived. More than a few show up late and it’s painfully obvious they were working until the last possible second.

 

Noctis wonders if completing his assignment on time, for once in his life, counts as doing a difficult thing for the day. He’s not really sure. Later, though, Luna facetimes him after he gets home, and Noct is pretty sure _that_ counts, when he actually answers.

 

“Hey, Luna,” Noctis says in a muffled voice. He’s in the kitchen, a freshly toasted poptart stuck between his teeth. Prompto’s at work, and there’s apparently a big project. Noctis had agreed to go meet him and walk home with him, but somehow Gladio got wind of the whole incident and had stepped in, pointing out the very obvious fact that he’s a much better deterrent than scrawny Noctis. Noct’s not sure how he feels about that. Either way, he has the place to himself.

 

“You were supposed to call,” Luna says, with a pout. Her phone is angled perfectly, and she looks flawless, big fuckin’ surprise. Noct’s phone camera is out of focus, only half of his face visible, and it’s mostly just an eyeful of poptart.

 

“I know,” Noctis grumbles, as he shuffles over to the kitchen table and sits down. The cat takes it as an invitation to hop up and sniff inquisitively at Noct’s phone. Luna giggles, though, at the pink cat nose that’s suddenly blocking the camera.

 

“Why hello there, Peanut!” Luna coos. Girls are really into cats. “You’re Instagram famous, did you know that?!”

 

Noctis groans. “I told Prompto to delete that stupid account. Normal people don’t have social media accounts for their pets, Luna…”

 

“ _Wait,_ hold up,” Luna waves a hand in front of her face. She’s sitting cross-legged in her bed, with her tablet lying to the side. It’s later in Tenebrae, of course, and she looks about ready for bed. “Prompto. You. Told. You guys are talking?”

 

“We were never _not_ talking,” Noctis tries to say. “I mean. It was weird. It’s weird. But… yeah. Talking. I’ve been doing that, Luna.”

 

Luna’s smile is bright and vivid. “Good. I _knew_ you just needed a push! Did you talk to your dad?”

 

“Who haven’t I talked to?” Noctis grumbles. “Yeah. My dad. Prompto. Aranea – that’s Iggy’s girlfriend – and it sucks. It’s the worst. I… I’m going to talk to a counsellor on Friday, too.”

 

Luna’s damn well beaming on the other side of the screen, and Noctis groans. It’s embarrassing. There’s a little flicker of pride in his chest, though. For all their time exchanging emails, impersonal, timestamping and visited at a later date, Noctis is glad that they’re talking like this now. Maybe, before, he’d just been terrified, because he’d known the truth all along, hadn’t he? She’s like a sister, nothing more. That’s a thought for another time though.

 

“I knew it, Noctis. I’ve had faith in you all along. You’re getting there, I told you,” Luna says happily. Noctis grumbles and he’s definitely flushing up, even as he takes another bite of his poptart.

 

“Can we not talk about this? What’re you up to?”

 

Luna jumps headlong into a rant about her boyfriend, about how she’s getting a glimpse of his _sweet_ side and some other sickening, romantic stuff, a talk about school, about how she wants to come visit Insomnia and does he think Prompto will mind if she stays with them (“are you kidding? Prompto would lose his shit at the idea of a sleepover with you, Luna,” he reassures) and a bunch of random stuff, nothing too important. Whatever it is, though, it does the job. Noctis feels, somehow, a whole lot better after the call. He doesn’t feel quite so alone.

 

Thursday, the nerves kick in proper about talking to someone. Noctis almost cancels his appointment four times. He manages a meltdown in his afternoon class, at least, though narrowly. Eventually, he just shuts off his phone and hides it in the bottom of his bag to keep himself from opening his email and bailing on the appointment. He pulls a Prompto-like move and spends the class doodling, instead. It’s not a half-bad drawing, either, he thinks with a hint of self-satisfaction.

 

Prompto doesn’t have work, at least, and Noctis spends half the evening holed up in front of his computer, living in a pit of self-loathing and despair. It’s a cycle, one where he debates getting up and going into the living room, but the second he gets up out of his chair, that strange wave of panic and nausea and fear hits him. So he burrows back down, and decides to do something productive instead. Except the moment he opens a textbook and starts to read, his mind goes in circles again, frantic without some sort of distracting stimulus to keep him sane.

 

Finally, Prompto knocks on the door, and hauls a few textbooks and his tablet in.

 

“Test next week. Wanna study together?”

 

Noctis nods, and he’s grateful Prompto made the first move. He doesn’t wanna be alone, but it’s hard, reaching out, when he’s upset like this. They spend the evening curled up in Noct’s bed, and at some point, Noctis dozes off on Prompto’s shoulder. When he wakes up in the morning, around noon, Prompto’s long gone to his class. He doesn’t know if Prompto ever moved to his own bed or not. It doesn’t matter, though, because Noct’s having a miniature panic attack.

 

Maybe Prompto will forget about him. That thought, in itself, is terrifying, but maybe not as bad as the thought of going to campus and talking to someone.

 

Of course, it’s not that easy, because Prompto shows up after his class ends, a good hour before Noct has to be back at school. And, of course, he’s brought lunch.

 

“You should eat, Noctis,” Prompto lectures idly. Noct’s surprised he’s even managed to get dressed. He’s sitting on the couch, staring aimlessly at the television, the cat curled up in his lap.

 

“Yeah,” Noct replies. His mind’s not entirely there. He thinks, maybe, that he’s having a dissociative episode. Not that he really knows the term. Just that he knows he feels… fuzzy. Kinda empty. Like he’s floating. Like everything is happening a mile away from him, and he simply _exists_.

 

Prompto sits down on the couch next to him, the couch settling with the new weight. He hands over a sandwich – a very Noctis-appropriate sandwich, no veggies, all meat and cheese and sauce – but it doesn’t really taste like much when Noctis bites into it. He lets the cat chew at the corner of it.

 

“You spoil him worse than I do,” Prompto points out.

 

“Prompto, I really don’t wanna go to this,” Noctis replies in a blurted out mess of a response. His stomach is doing flips. The two bites of his food he’s managed are heavy in his stomach. He wants to crawl back into bed.

 

Prompto sighs, and Noctis thinks maybe his best friend’s going to get up and leave, to abandon him, and Noctis knows he’d deserve it. Everyone keeps giving him these second, and third, chances, and how is he repaying them? By not going anywhere at all, no real progress, just hanging in stasis.

 

“I never wanted to go to mine, either,” Prompto says with a laugh, running a hand through his hair, messing the blonde spikes into various different angles. “Just… go to the first one. Decide after that. I’ll be right here, Noct, and you never have to talk about it with me again, especially if you hate it.”

 

Just one. One hard thing a day. That’s been working. So just one shitty appointment.

 

Somehow, that makes it a little better. “Okay,” Noctis agrees.

 

An hour later, he’s sitting in a little office in the student services building on campus. Prompto’s waiting outside, probably messing around on his phone. Noct’s sitting on a little couch. The room is cozy enough. There’s a desk with a computer in one corner. Lots of books fill a bunch of various bookshelves. There’s a few cheesy motivational posters, but there’s some video game and movie ones, too. It’s not as terrible as Noctis thought it would be, honestly.

 

Of course, he’s said all of maybe ten sentences.

 

“Hi. I’m Noctis,” he said to the counsellor as he entered.

 

She introduces herself as Monica, and gives him a quick brief, the usual ‘I have to report self-harm’ spiel that has Noctis rolling his eyes a little. He’s one hell of a depressed mess, yeah, but he’s not about to kill himself. It’s not that bad. It will _never_ be that bad.

 

“I dunno what I’m supposed to talk about,” Noctis says, finally, when she asks what he wants to talk about.

 

“Well, it’s your time. If you want to talk about your problems, I can listen, and we can work through them together. If you want advice, I can offer some coping mechanisms. Or, some people just like to sit here. This time is about you.”

 

Noctis frowns at that. He leans back against the plush couch cushion. Monica, from the outside, looks pretty much like the stereotypical counsellor. She has a kind face, mousy brown hair that’s cut short, side-swept bangs that fall low on her forehead. She’s wearing a white shirt with a cardigan over top, and a pair of mom jeans. Pretty average.

 

“I like silence,” Noctis confesses, with a self-conscious laugh.

 

“Then we can sit here in silence,” she agrees, with a little smile, “silence in itself can be therapeutic, did you know that?”

 

Noctis doesn’t think so. He spends a good deal of his time in silence. But even so, the silence that falls between him and this absolute stranger is comfortable. She works away in a little notebook, occasionally typing on her computer. Noctis finds himself leaning back on the couch, curling up sideways with his feet tucked under him. He pulls out his phone and browses through it.

 

Fifteen minutes in, Noctis cracks.

 

“My best friend convinced me to come,” he says, slowly, tentatively. “Prompto. He’s outside, waiting… he’s. He’s a good friend. I dunno what I’d do without him.”

 

“He sounds like a good friend,” Monica says, with a little smile. Noct’s torn, because he knows that tone, the way she’s wording things and rephrasing his own statements and throwing them back at him. But she doesn’t know him, and there’s still a strange empathy to the words. He thinks, maybe, that an absolute stranger cares, and sure, it’s her job, but she seems like a person who _likes_ her job.

 

“I’m in love with him,” Noctis confesses, aloud, and it’s impossibly difficult to say, but so fucking easy, he wants to say it again. He can’t, definitely not to Prompto, not to anyone, but this stranger… she won’t tell anyone. She won’t judge him. It’s freeing, in a strange way. It’s got Noct’s heart thumping in his chest, and his eyes narrowed in determination, and it feels _good._ “I fucked everything up with him, but I wanna fix it, and I don’t know how.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Noctis thinks it over, and he only has to for a moment. “Yeah. I do.”

 

He talks for ten minutes, before he runs out of things to say. Or, rather, he runs out of the energy to say anything. It’s a jumbled mess of how he got here, of being a stupid, drunk teenager with the fantastic idea of messing around with the one person he trusts more than anything in the world. It’s a quick story about meeting his best friend as a kid – both of them outcasts, confused – or how they met again in high school. It’s a lot of rambling about nothing, too, and Noct’s pretty sure he hasn’t even gotten into the meat of the issue.

 

Their time is almost up, anyway, and Noctis doesn’t know how he feels about that. They haven’t even talked about _him._ He has so much he wants to get off his chest, so many things he wants to unload, that he hasn’t even realized has been weighing him down. His dad. The sexuality thing. His future. More Prompto. Always more Prompto. The depression.

 

“Would you like to come back for another meeting?” Monica says, slowly, when it’s about time for Noctis to leave.

 

Noctis frowns. He’s hugging his knees up to his chest, and he’s _tired._ He wants to cry, honestly, and it’s a startling emotion. He hadn’t cried at all, but now that he’s gotten on this track… yeah. He’s worn down.

 

“Okay,” Noct says, and his voice sounds small. “Yeah. Another meeting would be good.”

 

“Thirty minutes again? Or the full hour?”

 

“Do I have to talk for an hour?” Noctis can’t believe he’s even agreeing to come back. He’s a mess. Was this supposed to help? He doesn’t know if it did, because he’s tired and worn down and he just wants to cry and sleep. He wants Prompto. He wants his best friend. That’s the worst feeling, right now, because it’s a mess. And he’d confessed his feelings to a _stranger._

 

“We do whatever you want in here, Noctis.”

 

“The hour then,” Noctis sighs. The appointment is made. Next Friday afternoon, again, for a full hour this time.

 

Noct’s wobbly as he makes his way out, after reassuring the counsellor that he’s fine. Prompto looks up from his phone when the door opens, and he’s on his feet in an instant.

 

“You survived,” Prompto says, lighthearted, an attempt at a tease.

 

Noctis nods. “Yeah,” he says, and his voice is shaky, pathetic, and small.

 

His best friend, goddamnit, he always knows what Noctis needs, though, because Prompto’s stepping in, and he curls his arms around Noctis, and draws him in for a hug. And Noct doesn’t care that they’re in the middle of campus, that it’s the middle of the afternoon, that anyone could see them, could see _him._ There’s tears streaking down his cheeks and he holds on for dear life, fingers tangling into the back of Prompto’s coat, head pressed into his best friend’s shoulder.

 

“I’ve got ya, Noct,” Prompto says, quiet, holding him close. He’s warm, comforting. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

 

Noctis believes it. For the first time in a long time, he believes Prompto. Their friendship, at least, is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 125k words in and i finally got to name-drop the title of this fic ahahahaha
> 
> anyway. another chapter of the boys making slow, steady progressing fixing things. i'm proud of my boy noctis. we've struggled so long, so hard... <3 HE SAID THE WORD. HE KNOWS HOW HE FEELS AHHHHHHHHHH. of course it'll take me another 100k words to finish this fic anyway cuz i've trashed my outline again lmao.
> 
> anyway! I'm on tumblr @destatree , come join me there for drabbles of domestic bliss and happier things. twitter @thatdest , i mostly scream about the million fics i'm now trying to balance. see yall for next week's dose of angst~


	28. Alright for Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “… we have a lot of good memories,” Noctis says suddenly. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but the words just tumble out. It’s true, too. They’ve got years of friendship behind them. Noctis thinks, just maybe, he hasn’t fully appreciated that. 
> 
> Prompto goes silent for a moment. “Yeah, Noct. We do.”

Noctis is shit company for dinner that night. He naps when he gets home from his session. He’s not sure why it sucks so much, or why he feels so _drained_ from just a few minutes of chatting. Prompto doesn’t seem to care when he doesn’t say much on the way home. He doesn’t seem to mind when Noct leans on him, either. Noctis appreciates it, but he doesn’t voice it, and he hopes Prompto knows.

 

“You gonna be okay?” Prompto asks when they get inside. Noctis nods, a little numbly, and he drops his heavy bag on the kitchen table. He doesn’t even bother to change out of his clothes, just crawls under the comfortable, heavy, safe warmth of the blankets and dozes listlessly for a couple of hours.

 

He feels more exhausted than ever, with the beginning, dull throbs of a headache, when Noct’s phone goes off. He almost – almost – ignores it in favour of dozing longer, but something’s itching at the back of Noct’s mind and it’s enough to make him roll onto his side and reach for his phone.

 

Fuck. It’s a text from dad. And fuck, he realizes that it’s Friday, and he’d agreed to do dinner again.

 

In the past, Noctis probably would’ve ignored the message. He would’ve made up some stupid excuse about feeling sick. It’s not even a lie, really, because his head hurts, his _heart_ hurts, and he’s tired. Or more likely, he would’ve outright just not answered. It seems… cheap though, like all of his fucking efforts have gone to waste, if he gives up now.

 

So instead, Noctis texts out a shaky reply, that he can be ready in a bit. He’s feeling like shit, but he owes it to his dad to at least try, right?

 

“I’m going out,” Noctis says, simply, to Prompto a little later. They haven’t really talked about his breakdown. He doesn’t think Prompto will ask. Maybe they should talk about it, about the embrace that felt too fucking good, that made everything _too_ damn real. But that would be a rather abrupt end to an increasingly overdramatic story that they’re living out, after all. Noctis has started to figure out that it’s not all that easy.

 

Prompto’s doing some studying in his room. He’s lying flat on his bed, and his shirt’s ridden up his back a little, and it makes Noct’s stomach do those goddamn flips again. It’s hard to believe that this all started with them getting handsy, with hormones and those funny fluttery feelings pushing them forward, and it makes his hands itch to just… _go_ for it. He won’t, and he doesn’t.

 

“You feeling up to that?” Prompto looks up from his textbook, and he gives Noctis a _look,_ one that Noct can’t quite interpret. It’s like his best friend is hovering somewhere between concern and fear that he’s pushing too far. And maybe he is. Noctis shifts awkwardly in the door.

 

“I’m not delicate, Prompto,” he says, slowly, as if he hadn’t just had a fucking emotional breakdown and sobbed in his best friend’s arms in the middle of a public area. “… I just. I’m sorry. I’ll be okay.”

 

“I know you aren’t, Noct,” Prompto says quickly, the lightest hint of flush spreading across freckle-splashed cheeks, as he ducks his head back down. “… sorry. Does this feel weird to you?”

 

“Everything feels weird, Prom, thought we already covered that part,” Noctis laughs a little though, and some semblance of normalcy is returned to the situation. Though really – at this point, what’s normalcy? Noct’s pretty sure that they left that behind some chapters ago, if they ever had that to begin with.

 

\---

 

Noct’s dad, luckily, seems perfectly fine with going out to a relatively quick-service place in Noctis’s part of town. Parking’s a bit of a hassle, especially with the snow, but they manage.

 

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping well,” his dad says, in that ridiculous conversationally insulting way that only fathers can pull off. They’re perusing the menus of the place, even though Noct’s been here a few times and already knows he’ll order pretty much the exact same thing he always orders. Being a picky eater, he has a few ‘go-to’ dishes and he rarely strays from them.

 

“I’ve been sleeping better,” Noctis admits with a frown, sipping at his soda. He’s not sure if he should open up to his dad about things. Well. That’s a lie. Noctis is pretty sure he _should_ open up to his dad, but it’s not a step he’s ready to take. Besides, telling his father that he’s doing something when he hasn’t fully, one-hundred percent committed to it, that seems like too much of a leap. Sure, he’s got the second appointment. But whether or not there will be a third…? He hasn’t figured that out.

 

His father catches his eye though, even as Noctis tries to dodge it. “… should I be concerned, Noctis? You always sleep way too much, if you _aren’t_ sleeping…”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but he manages a little smile. “You know what’s up, dad. It’s just… hard.”

 

“It is,” his father agrees. “You’re doing fine. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

 

Noctis nods, chewing on his straw.

 

When their food arrives, Noctis eyes his father’s meal, full of vegetables and questionable sauces and all the things he hates. He’s defaulted to a burger, of course, all meat and cheese and bread, the things Noctis likes best.

 

“Want to try some?” his father asks, offering out a forkful of broccoli and something that looks horribly like brussel sprouts, a vegetable Noctis is very pleased to say he has never had the misfortune of tasting. Younger Noctis might have been stupid and ignorant, but he did _that_ much right, at least.

 

“Dad. Come on. Like I’m going to eat that,” Noctis rolls his eyes. “I might be growing up, but that doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly lost all sense of good taste.”

 

His father laughs, and wiggles the fork at Noctis like he’s a fucking toddler again. “You never know. You might like it. Maybe it’ll show some personal growth, broadening your horizons.”

 

“You talk like I’m a fictional character in some stupid twisted story,” Noctis sighs, going for some of his fries, instead. But it’s lightened the mood a little. His dad isn’t so bad, and it’s nice to have some idle chatter with him, something that isn’t all gloomy, dreary subject matter. More importantly, it’s nice in a different sort of way. Reassuring that even though Noctis has bared his heart and soul to his dad, admitted his feelings for his best friend, nothing’s really changed between them. Or maybe things have changed, maybe they’re more on equal footing now, but it doesn’t all have to feel so heavy and depressing all the time.

 

It’s nice.

 

“Dad,” Noctis deadpans, when his father tries to sneak a bit of his salad on his plate, and he pointedly eats around the fries that have touched the dreaded lettuce. Okay, so his dad is still a _dad_ at the end of the day, but that’s okay, too.

 

\---

 

It’s funny how life works. Some days seem to drag, impossibly so, especially when Noct’s trapped in his own mind, replaying everything, obsessing over every little thing he’s done wrong. And some days are like that. Some days, he still barely gets out of bed, and when he does, he’s just going through the motions. He misses a couple more classes, here and there.

 

Other days, they fly by in the blink of an eye. Sometimes it’s because Noctis falls into the video game trap, where he swears he’s _going to_ study, he’ll even get his textbook out, but then after a bit of studying, the feelings creep in, and they nag at his mind. He’s replaying that hug Prompto gave him, wondering what it _means,_ or if it just means nothing at all. Noctis starts remembering those first tentative kisses, the messing around, the fumbling, how _good_ Prompto felt inside him, wrapped around him, all of it. And it’s all too much, and he’ll decide he needs to take a fucking break, and then suddenly he’s procrastinating for hours, surfing the internet, chasing a rush of stimulation that pushes all the other stuff away.

 

But he goes to his second meeting. The one that’s a full hour. It’s a lot. It’s too much, Noctis realizes, when he talks for maybe twenty minutes of the hour. The rest of the time is a semi-comfortable silence, one where Noctis sort of dozes off, curled up on the corner of the couch. It’s not as weird as he thought it would be, honestly.

 

“I don’t understand why Prompto offered to come with me,” Noctis admits though, near the end of that second meeting, after a good half hour of silence. “… he came last week, too. And he’s outside, waiting. I dunno what he wants, anymore.”

 

“He’s a good friend. Focus on that part of it. The rest will come,” Monica tells him. Noctis frowns, and he isn’t so sure. But the _friend_ part, he knows, is important.

 

At the end of the meeting, she challenges him to write down one thought a day. At first, Noctis thought it was going to be something horribly cheesy, like keeping a journal, or writing down something positive and uplifting.

 

“What if it’s a bad thought?” he asks, slowly, skeptically.

 

“All thoughts are important. Even the bad ones. Just write down something that seems important for the day,” she explains. Noctis thinks it’s still pretty dumb, but maybe not _as_ dumb as he’d expected. So he agrees to that. He cuts down the next meeting to half an hour, though, because he doesn’t quite think he’s ready to handle the full sessions.

 

“So. Next week’s just a short one again,” he says a little reluctantly to Prompto as they’re walking home from campus. It’s flurried a bit over the week, but there were a couple of warmer days in there, too, and the snow’s starting to melt away. The remnants of it are turning brown and dirty, kind of ruining the beautiful wintery illusion they’d had for a while. It almost makes Noctis yearn for more snow, though the forecast is calling for another rough storm, later in the week.

 

Noctis is ashamed that he’s worried, afraid even, of Prompto’s response. Like he’s not doing well enough, like he hasn’t put in enough effort. He’s trying, he really is, it’s just… _exhausting._ He doesn’t even know how just an hour, one spent mostly in silence, has him so drained and worn.

 

“You’re going again next week?” Prompto says, instead, after a moment. “Good. I’m glad, Noct. Honestly, the first few are the hardest. I… this is good, y’know?”

 

It’s a bit of a rambling response, but it has Noctis grinning, dumb and stupid, without even realizing it. He’s relieved by his best friend’s reply. More, he’s… optimistic, somehow. Even though it’s hard, Prompto’s cheering him on. His best friend’s on his side. It makes it a little easier.

 

“Good,” Noctis echoes, “I… I’m gonna be okay.”

 

“We’re gonna be okay,” Prompto replies. There’s a tentative brush of hands, brief, fleeting, before Prompto’s tugging away and tucking his gloved hand into his pockets. Noctis swears his best friend’s cheeks are turning pink. His stomach is doing weird flips again. It’s back to the weirdness, but somehow, it’s a comfortable one. It’s something he can handle.

 

And.

 

Prompto said _we._ Like _we_ is a thing between them. Noctis thinks that he agrees. They’re gonna be okay. Somehow. They’re getting there.

 

Noctis finds a little empty notebook when he gets home, one that’s a spare he’s thown into the bottom drawer of his desk. He opens it to the first blank page. Feeling increasingly dumb, he writes down his first ever thought of the day: _Prompto says we’re going to be okay. That implies that there’s a ‘we’ to this? I’m okay with this. I’m more than okay. I’m happy about it, and I’m terrified._

It feels a little better, putting words to it. Even though Noctis dreads actually doing it every day, it’s almost cathartic.

 

It’s a strange sense of irony, too, that his first thought is of Prompto. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?

 

\---

 

Sunday evening, it snows again. It’s a real, proper storm, with the window panes howling and rattling in the wind. Outside, it’s a blur of white. They’re sitting in the kitchen, eating chicken nuggets and fries that Noctis has managed to cook for them – the pinnacle of his culinary skills, really, preheating an oven and managing to not burn the frozen food – and the light on their back deck is on. It’s a halo effect, catching the snowflakes as they fall in thick swirls. Prompto’s boots and his jacket are hanging by the door, dripping melted snow in a puddle on the kitchen floor. He’d been at work, but they’d send him home as soon as the snow had started, and it’s a damn good thing, because it’s one hell of a storm.

 

Noctis and his best friend, of course, are discussing the important details. They have a test the following day, during their Monday class.

 

“Think it’s gonna be canceled?” Prompto asks, over a mouthful of fries. “Noct, I really don’t wanna study any more. What are the chances, I wonder…?”

 

Noctis frowns, poking at a chicken nugget. He glances up at the window, and there’s another harsh gust of wind that he swears he feels in the very walls of the apartment, creaking and swaying around him. “Dunno,” he admits. “If it was an early class, maybe, but it’s not until eleven… they might have everything cleaned up by then.”

 

“I think,” Prompto laughs, “that’s the first time you’ve referred to eleven in the morning as _‘not until eleven’_ like it’s actually late in the day.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes. He tosses a chicken nugget at Prompto’s head. It misses spectacularly, and lands on the kitchen floor. The cat saunters over to investigate, sniffs the food, and bats at it lazily with a paw. They’re low quality chicken nuggets, probably that pink processed goo that people like to talk about for shock factor, and apparently the cat has higher standards than they do. Noctis thinks they taste perfectly fine.

 

“Just saying. We should probably study,” Noctis sighs.

 

Of course, the words barely escape his lips when the whole house seems to creak and groan under the effort of the storm, the power flickers suddenly around them, and then they’re sitting in complete, utter darkness.

 

“Well, guess we aren’t doing any studying,” Prompto says cheerfully. It’s way too convenient. “… do we even own any flashlights?”

 

“Our phones?” Noctis points out, even though his phone is woefully low on battery and god only knows when he last charged his portable battery. Or where it is, for that matter. Realistically, Ignis probably has a whole emergency supply kit packed away in their apartment, because that’s just what Ignis does. He has contingency plans for his contingency plans.

 

“Might as well finish dinner,” Prompto shrugs, and they finish eating their food in the darkness. Prompto’s getting nervous though – Noctis can feel it, and the mood is a little addictive. It ends with them both jumping, a mess of nerves whenever the windows rattle with the wind. At one point, the cat jumps onto the kitchen counter and the soft thud has Prompto making a pathetic little noise in the back of his throat.

 

“Okay, Noctis, I gotta admit, I don’t like this,” Prompto confesses afterwards. He’s staying close to Noctis, their shoulders brushing, the light on Noct’s mostly-dead phone shining as they shuffle down the hallway and into the laundry room. He texted Ignis, and indeed, there’s apparently a supplies kit stashed on one of the shelves in here. They find it, and that’s how they end up back in the living room, a few candles lit, the flames dancing, creating flickering shadows across the walls. It’s a little unsettling, the way the light moves through the room, coupled with the wind and the snow swirling against the glass.

 

“I’ve got an idea,” Noctis says, suddenly, as they’re sitting on the couch. His phone’s light guides him down the hallway, into his bedroom, and Noctis returns with an armful of pillows and blankets. He’s ripped the comforter off his bed and it trails behind him as he walks, but he dumps it all on the floor in the living room.

 

“What’s all that for?” Prompto looks skeptical. For a moment, Noctis pauses to just _watch_ how the dancing candlelight looks, catching in Prompto’s hair, like spun gold – then he tears his eyes away, and smiles instead.

 

“When I was a kid. I used to be really freaked out by storms. Ignis used to make dumb blanket forts with me. I know it’s dumb, but…”

 

Prompto gives him a _look,_ and for a moment, Noctis feels like a total fucking idiot for suggesting it. He’s about to blurt out a quick ‘just kidding’, but his best friend doesn’t give him a chance.

 

“Dude, Noct, that’s fucking hilarious. Let’s do it,” Prompto grins, standing up from the couch and observing what they’ve got to work with.

 

They end up dragging a couple of chairs in from the kitchen. One edge of the blanket is draped along the edge of the couch, tucked in under the cushions. Another corner is wrapped and tied awkwardly around one chair. It drapes over the edge of the coffee table, and is secured by the other chair at the parallel corner. The whole effect is silly, really, but there’s a nice spot on the floor in front of the couch. They drag some pillows in there, settle the candles under the coffee table where they won’t catch on the draping fabric of the blanket, and curl up together, backs wedged up against the couch.

 

“Better,” Prompto decides, with a faint laugh. They’re pressed close. Noctis has to admit, it’s intimate in a way he hasn’t expected. The air is a little too warm, heavy with their breath and the faint heat from the candles. It’s nice though. Outside, the wind is howling, but it’s fainter, blocked out a little by the blanket barrier that’s keeping the outside world at bay.

 

Prompto’s phone has enough battery, and decent enough cell phone reception, that they end up streaming a movie. He’ll probably go over his data plan for the month, but right now, neither of them care. They prop the phone up against a textbook that neither of them are bothering to read. After a while, Prompto leans in, his head tipping to tentatively rest on Noct’s shoulder.

 

Fuck. It has Noct’s heart thumping in his chest, his palms a little sweaty. It’s hard to breathe, the air is hot and thick, and eventually Noctis has to shift them, has to lean over just enough to tug the blanket up a little and let some cooler, fresh air into their makeshift blanket fort.

 

He settles back though, and Prompto’s head tips right back down. It feels safe, warm and secure. Noctis realizes he hasn’t made his daily note in his journal, but he thinks he’s going to write about this exact moment, simply coexisting together, quiet and content. His hard thing of the day, too, he thinks, is the fact that he’s not leaning in for a kiss. It’s the fact that Noctis isn’t ruining this wobbling, tentative friendship thing they’re slowly working back up by being an idiot again. It’s Noctis admitting that he’s all sorts of fucked up, and he’s trying, but it’s _hard._ Even if he’s only admitting it to himself.

 

At some point, they both doze off. It’s not the most comfortable of positions. They’re both slouched back against the couch, pillows wedged under their backs. Prompto’s phone eventually runs dead, and the candles burn into nothing, smoldering and smoking as they sputter out. The storm still rages outside, though.

 

Noctis wakes up in the early hours of the morning when Prompto stirs and shakes him awake.

 

“Hey. Noct. It’s like four in the morning,” Prompto says quietly, with a laugh. “Power’s still out. We should probably go to bed.”

 

Noctis grumbles. His eyes are thick with sleep, and his mind is struggling to churn out any sort of discernable thought. He doesn’t do well with random awakenings, and he’s also capable of sleeping pretty much anywhere, when sleep isn’t evading him. Even if it’s sleeping in the middle of the living room floor.

 

“ ‘m tired,” Noctis manages.

 

“Come on, Noct,” Prompto replies, reaching for Noct’s arm and half-dragging him up. Noctis grumbles and groans, but he lets his best friend tug him down the hallway, his feet wobbling, dizzy and uneven. They’re halfway to Noct’s bedroom when he realizes something.

 

“My blanket,” Noctis mumbles, sleepy and slow, “it’s all tied up in the living room…”

 

Prompto frowns. It’s too dark for Noctis to know for sure, but he swears his best friend is flustered. “Come sleep in my bed? Unless you murdered my blankets too.”

 

The last time Noctis slept in his best friend’s bed, it was in a very different context. Noctis can’t help it, he’s flushing bright red, grateful for the darkness as they tumble into Prompto’s too-small bed. It’s all vivid memories of having Prompto over him, of kissing and touching. It’d been so stupidly easy back then, so natural, and even though Noct’s positive that he hadn’t really had _any_ concept of what he was getting himself into – neither of them had, really – he’s sure that he’d known on some level that it was something.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto mumbles with a muffled laugh as he accidentally elbows Noctis in the ribs as they shift and adjust themselves under the blankets. Noctis grumbles and shoves his best friend playfully in response. They end up in a relatively awkward position, but comfortable enough, Prompto wedged up next to the wall, Noct on the far end of the bed, a couple of inches between them. One of Noct’s legs is dangling off the edge of the bed. His head is tipped to the side, and he can make out the outline of his best friend’s face, his features blurry in the darkness. The wind is still howling. It’s still storming fiercely outside.

 

“Pretty sure the storm’s gonna keep going,” Prompto says. “Think my sorry ass is gonna be saved from that test in the morning.”

 

Noctis laughs a little. “Too bad we’re gonna have like thirty feet of snow out there,” he points out, though really, that’s not the worst thing in the world. He’s probably going to ache and creak like nothing else in the morning, between falling asleep on the couch, and the shitty weather. It’ll creep into his bones, have him wincing and grumbling all through the day.

 

“The snow is awesome,” Prompto sighs, “we haven’t had a winter like this since… fuck, since the year we met? Is that when it was?”

 

Noctis tries to think back. There was a particularly rough winter, and he definitely remembers messing around with Prompto, pushing each other into snowbanks. There was an incident with Prompto taking a selfie of them with a snowbank that was definitely taller than they were. There was also an incident – right after the photo – involving them trying to scale said snowbank. It’d ended with Noctis sinking all the way to his waist in snow, and Prompto falling off the side of it, causing a mini avalanche.

 

“… we have a lot of good memories,” Noctis says suddenly. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but the words just tumble out. It’s true, too. They’ve got years of friendship behind them. Noctis thinks, just maybe, he hasn’t fully appreciated that.

 

Prompto goes silent for a moment. “Yeah, Noct. We do.”

 

Noctis smiles faintly, and he can tell Prompto is smiling back, just as faint.

 

\---

 

Their class ends up being cancelled. The power is also back on by the time Noctis wakes up at noon. Prompto celebrates their great victory against the college gods by cooking them breakfast. Well. It’s noon, so technically that means it’s brunch, right?

 

It’s later, when Noctis is sitting at his desk, trying to actually get some _real_ studying done as a thank you to said college gods, because they really _have_ been granted a second chance with this test, that the bad day hits him.

 

It’s a tightness in his chest, a heaviness, and Noctis sees it coming. He sees it coming, and he’s helpless to stop it. The therapist talked a little about finding a place that’s warm and secure, but somehow, the fucking thought that _Prompto_ is what comes to mind when Noct thinks about that, it only makes it worse.

 

He drags his textbook to his bed (freshly made, because Prompto cleaned up their ridiculous blanket fort) and pretends to study in there. Instead, Noctis curls up under the blankets, and he fitfully dozes for a while, rolling, restless. His mind is tugging him back and forth like a fucking pingpong ball, bouncing from the idea that maybe he should crawl out of bed, find something to distract himself with, his game or a movie or _something._ Just as quickly as Noctis works that thought, though, is the realization that he just doesn’t have the energy to get up out of bed. And all the while, Noctis keeps replaying the night before in his head, the quiet cuddling, the fact that he’d _slept_ in Prompto’s bed, and it’s all confusing. Where do they stand?

 

He stays like this, in a bit of a stasis, until Prompto knocks on the door. “Noct?”

 

Noctis grumbles. His pillow is over his head. He doesn’t want to acknowledge his best friend, but he pokes his head out. “Mmm?”

 

“Snow finally stopped,” Prompto says with a grin, “and I guess the coffee shop’s open. Let’s go get hot chocolates and play around in the snow?”

 

It doesn’t sound like a good idea at all. Noctis is sore. He’s sore and he’s in a shitty mood. But with classes cancelled, he’s absolutely going to mope in his bedroom under the blankets all day, if he can get away with it. And it’s not what he wants, not _really._ He’s still following Gladio’s advice. It seems like Noct’s life is a whole lot of shitty, sappy advice. Do one thing a day. Write down one thought a day. It’s stupid how helpful it is.

 

His one thing, Noctis decides, is this.

 

“Yeah,” he says, lifting his head, “… I need a shower though. I feel gross. Mind waiting?”

 

“Don’t mind,” Prompto says with a smile. He offers up a casual wave and wanders down the hallway.

 

So, later, they find themselves outside, wading through the narrow path that’s been plowed along the sidewalk. Maybe the shower was a bad idea, because Noct’s hair is freezing until crispy raw strands in the cold air. Now that the snow has stopped, it’s gotten colder again, has them both shivering in their coats, even as bundled as they are. The path is barely wide enough for the two of them to walk next to each other, and their shoulders brush, each little touch a spark of _something_ that Noctis doesn’t quite understand. This was a bad idea.

 

They end up circling around the block with their hot chocolates in hand, though. There’s a little park, more of an urban garden than anything, in the better months, and they brush the thick blanket of snow off the top of a picnic table and sit there. Noctis winces at the cold, at the bits of snow sticking to the ass of his pants and making him shiver. He awkwardly reaches behind him and tries to tug the back of his coat down a little better to provide another barrier of warmth between him and the cold, snowy seat, but to no avail.

 

“I like winter,” Prompto says aimlessly, perching next to Noctis. Noct doesn’t say anything, not at first, but it’s kinda nice, he has to admit, despite the snow. With the college being shut down for the day, and them living so close to the school, most haven’t ventured out yet. The little square park is entirely untouched still, just a white, clean expanse of snow, the whole world draped in a thick blanket. Noctis shivers a little, takes a long sip of his hot, but rapidly cooling, hot chocolate, and leans a little closer.

 

“I’m kinda over winter,” Noctis confesses with a faint laugh. “It’s just… the thought of being trapped inside for the next four months… seems like a lot, huh?”

 

“We aren’t trapped inside,” Prompto points out with a little groan, nudging their shoulders. “… I hear ya, though. Kinda makes it hard to run. But we’re in this together, huh?”

 

Together. Again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Noctis says suddenly, and he looks down, fingers curled around the cup for warmth, but it’s also something of an anchor. A grounding point. Something he’s gripping onto, without even understanding why. “… for being all caught up in my shit. You don’t have to go with me to those stupid appointments, you know. You don’t have to drag me out of bed, either.”

 

“Duh,” Prompto says back, instantly and easily, like they’re talking about the weather, or a video game, or anything else. It’s lighthearted, and somehow instead of seeming dismissive, it’s exactly what Noctis needs. “I’m doing all this cuz I want to, Noctis. You’re my best friend.”

 

Noctis nods. His breath is coming out in those hot puffs again. There’s a thin line of steam escaping from the cover to his drink, and it’s all mingling together in the cold air. It’s only mid-November, and it’s an early winter, and it’s all… a _lot._

 

“Was I always like this?” Noctis says slowly. “I… I know I’ve been hard to deal with, but I feel like I’ve gotten so much worse. Sad, and confused. I don’t think I was this bad, before, Prom. I don’t think I’m the same person anymore.”

 

“Worse?” Prompto tips his head. It’s a magnetic draw, one that has Noctis lifting his eyes, meeting Prompto’s gaze before he can look away. “Fuck, Noctis, you for real, buddy? You’re _talking_ to me. You never talked before, you just kinda… shut down, about all the hard stuff. This is like, so much progress. It’s good. I… I like this side of you, Noct.”

 

That’s unexpected. Noct frowns, chewing on his lip, and his eyes duck down again – he can’t quite hold the contact.

 

“That means… more than it should,” Noctis laughs a little, self-conscious and all too aware of the world slowly creeping into existence back around them. It means so much. Too much, really. But it’s a little burst of confidence. A little reassurance that maybe being depressed about this isn’t the end of the world. It reminds Noctis that he isn’t quite so alone, that he can do this. Somehow.

 

Prompto doesn’t say anything, but there’s another little teasing nudge of their shoulders together, and it somehow communicates more than it should.

 

“What about you?” Noctis asks, slowly. “… are you okay? I mean… I know everything seems good, but I don’t think I ever ask, do I? I’m kinda caught up in my own shit.”

 

The confession is somehow exhausting. It draws the breath from Noct’s lungs. He feels like a bad friend, more often than not, and right now especially. When’s the last time he actually asked Prompto that? Noctis doesn’t know. He can’t remember. Worse, he doesn’t know if he can’t remember because it’s ages, or just because he’s being selfish.

 

“See,” Prompto replies, a little tentative, “this side of Noct. It’s a good side. I’m… I dunno, Noctis. I’m just as much of a mess. Just hide it better, I guess. Years of coping mechanisms.” Prompto laughs nervously, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his head, through the hat he’s wearing. Noctis regards him silently, watching the way his best friend’s cheeks burn red in the cold, masking some of the freckles. His eyes dart in front of him, and even though Prompto looks nervous, he doesn’t seem upset by the probing.

 

“You’re way better at it than I am,” Noctis, this time, is the one to nudge their shoulders together. He swears, just for a moment, that Prompto’s resolve falters. They share a glance, and it’s _something_ again, back to that _something,_ the concept that hangs between them, always just out of reach.

 

“Nah,” Prompto shakes his head. “Just… used to faking it, Noct.”

 

Noctis frowns. Whatever it is, it works. He wonders if he should probe further, if he should try and break into whatever walls Prompto’s built. Sometimes it feels like they’re so fucking similar, like they’ve both been through so much, more than anyone their ages should be. They’re just young, and neither of them really properly learned how to fully cope with things, and Noct’s realizing that his best friend might not be so far ahead of him after all.

 

“Thanks, Prom,” Noctis says, after a few moments of silence tick between them. “… I couldn’t do this without you, y’know.”

 

“Yeah you could,” Prompto replies, his voice quiet and thoughtful. “But you don’t have to. So it doesn’t matter.”

 

_Today,_ Noctis writes later, once they’re back home and he’s trying to thaw out, the cold working right into his spine, making him stiff and brittle and uncomfortable, _Prompto told me I’m not alone. That he doesn’t hate the person I am. It means a lot. It means too much._

Noctis hates pouring his soul into that stupid little book. One thought a day is turning out to be way too meaningful. There’s the urge to erase it, to rip the pages out and throw them away. He doesn’t, not today, but Noct’s pretty sure one of these days he’s going to get fed up. Maybe that’ll be the day that he figures out how to say those little thoughts aloud to his best friend.

 

Maybe it’s not so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for another slow chapter ): at least we're into proper slow-burn instead of just angst pit... i am actually fond of this one though, so i guess not too sorry. 
> 
> things pick up next chapter, i promise! ahhh guys we're finally getting to the final arc of this fic~~ <3 i'm so excited! 
> 
> sorry for the slow-ish update. i had minor surgery on wednesday and i'm still in relative pain from that! I go on vacation next week as well, so i will try to get an update out next week, but i am not bringing my laptop on my trip because i've got a very busy itinerary! if i go dead silent till the 9th or 10th of august though, you know why.


	29. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Noctis was in a better place, it’d be a good moment for self-discovery and introspection, where he’d realize that he’s made progress on this journey of his.

Noctis hadn’t really expected the whole ‘school’ part of college to take a backseat to the rest of the lessons life had to dish out. He’s pretty sure that the classes, arguably, are the easier part. Of course, it helps that he has Aranea humouring him with tutoring. The fact that Noctis still hasn’t bothered to find a part time job, that helps too. Really, he’s lucky. Apart from the whole slow-crippling depression and budding sexuality thing, of course. So, it’s arguable.

 

His Friday therapy sessions just become a thing. The third one goes a little better. Noctis talks about his dad a little. He talks about the car accident, about how sometimes his back still aches.

 

“Do the scars bother you?” Monica asks him, kindly. She’s always so kind. She doesn’t push him more than he's willing to give, and Noctis supposes that’s what he likes about her. And even if she really _is_ quietly judging (and he does worry about that part, because he really can’t help it), Noctis doesn’t know if he cares. He cares, on one level, but on the other, he’s so busy worrying about his dad. About Prompto. About Ignis. Gladio. Hell, even Aranea. And they all think that it’s good that he’s here, so… that counts for something, right?

 

“Scars?” Noctis frowns. “I… don’t really have any. Not any that I notice, anyway.” It’s a vague statement. Maybe purposefully vague.

 

“What about the emotional scars?” Monica presses.

 

Noctis frowns again. He tips his head down, and that’s food for thought. “… I dunno,” he admits. Is that what this is about? He doesn’t think he’s got some deep-seated trauma, or anything like that. “I guess what happened, just kinda happened y’know? I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

She doesn’t push him, and life goes on.

 

\---

 

There aren’t any more major storms, and that’s both a relief, and a bit of a disappointment. Noct’s clinging on to that memory, of being curled up next to Prompto, under the heavy blankets, warm and safe and locked away from the world, just for a little while. The weather really is hard on him though, in more than the one way. Noctis is pretty sure that staying inside isn’t helping him much. He lets Prompto drag him out to random places. They go out to the coffee shop a lot, and Noctis quietly notices his dad making extra deposits into his bank account. Maybe he should feel a little guilty, but they’ve moved their dinner days to Saturday or Sunday, because the Friday sessions are just too hard on him, and… well, it’s working. It’s okay.

 

Finals are creeping up on them, and life is going on. It’s okay. Everything is okay. It’s not amazing, but it’s okay.

 

Noctis is reminded of this particular fact one Saturday morning. He wakes up earlier than normal. The cat is sleeping on the foot of his bed, drawn in by Noct’s warmth. Prompto’s at work, he recalls vaguely, when the apartment sounds empty. It’s way too fucking early to be awake, by Noct’s standards, only a little before eleven in the morning. He can easily catch another two hours.

 

Noctis rolls onto his stomach, and he groans, because he’s half-hard. A normal thing, something he’s used to. The friction turns his brain to mush for a minute, but Noct ignores it, reaching for his phone, plugged in next to the bed.

 

A text from his dad, reminding him that they’re having dinner tonight. Noctis types back a quick reply, confirming. A text from Luna, asking him when his finals are – he’ll get back to that. A text from Prompto. Noctis thumbs it open, and it’s a selfie of him at work, with a bunch of dumb filters. Prompto looks incredibly bored, even though he’s smiling and offering a thumbs up. _‘boring day at work, miss u bae!’_ it’s captioned. Noctis rolls his eyes.

 

Again, with the bae thing. He’s still not really sure what that word even means.

 

 _'when u off?’_ he texts back. Noctis shifts a little awkwardly in bed, trying to get more comfortable. He’s still got his stupid little problem.

 

Prompto’s typing, with the little dots flashing at the bottom of the screen.

 

_‘1, on break now. So slow zzz it’s cold n nobody’s here. wait—better question, wtf u doing up so early?? this is a noctpocalype’_

 

Noctis bites his lip, and he taps at the screen of his phone awkwardly, even as he laughs and rolls his eyes at how dumb Prompto is. _‘just woke up. warm n cozy in bed.’_

 

He is warm. He’s very comfortable, minus his little problem. Noctis snuggles down a little further. As much as the winter stuff bothers him, there really is something satisfying about waking up on a cold winter day, frost speckled over the glass of the window. The air in the apartment just a little chillier than is entirely comfortable, but the thick layer of blankets is nice and warm, cocooning Noctis and keeping him safe.

 

The cat seems irritated that Noctis is moving around. He makes a grumpy chirping noise, stands up, stretches with a quivering arch of his back, and jumps off the foot of the bed.

 

“Glad to see you too, jerk,” Noctis says at the cat, though his voice is somewhat affectionate. He hates to admit it, but Peanut has totally grown on him. Even if the cat is obviously using him, viewing him as a source of warmth and food.

 

The phone sounds again. Noctis turns his attention back.

 

_'wish I was in bed warm n cozy noct ;-; ‘_

 

Noctis shudders. He takes a deep breath.

 

_‘is nice’ he types, then… ‘kinda empty tho’_

 

No. Noctis can’t send that. He backspaces quickly. Prompto looks like he’s typing. Then it stops. Then Noctis tries again and stops. Then the little dots at the bottom of the screen do the same thing. Fuck. Noctis flushes even though he realistically has nothing to be embarrassed about. Why do they keep going back to things being weird?

 

More importantly – why does this have to be weird? That’s, maybe, the more pressing question.

 

Noct's phone chimes.

 

_'well ur bed is much nicer than mine at least <3‘_

 

Noctis shudders. He takes a deep fucking breath. He puts his phone away before he says something stupid and incriminating. They’d curled up in Prompto’s bed the night of that storm, and it hadn’t been weird. It’s only weird if he makes it weird, Noctis realizes, and it’s a strange fucking feeling, to actually think that. Maybe that’s how it’s been all along. Maybe he’s been the one just making things weird by assuming it’s weird.

 

Goddamnit, Noctis rolls onto his back though. He stares at his ceiling.

 

He remembers lying in his bed like this, propped up against the headboard, seemingly a lifetime ago. It hasn’t been long. A month? More than a month, but not by too much. In Noctis time, that’s a whole world of time. But he can still see Prompto hovering over him perfectly. Noctis can still hear the way his best friend moaned, the way he felt, hot and tight and wrapped around him as he rode him, as they both gasped and made a total mess of themselves--

 

Noctis feels a little shameless, as he drags a hand down his belly. His shirt is hiked up, and his breath hitches as he drags the pads of his fingers over his lightly toned stomach, drifting down through the soft line of hair under his navel. He hasn’t had much desire or energy for anything lately, including, this, but his fingers dip into the band of his boxers. Noct’s fingers curl around his erection and he sighs out, tipping his head back against the pillow as he lifts his hips and slides his shorts down.

 

The vision comes to him way too easily. He still remembers what Prompto’s fingers felt like, curled around his cock, stroking him. Prompto’s grip is firmer, rougher – the way that his best friend likes to be touched, Noct remembers – and it’s different from how he touches himself. Eyes closed though, back arching up off the bed a little, it’s so easy to pretend that Prompto’s here with him. Noct’s cheeks flush as he realizes he’s picturing his best friend over him. He shudders as he realizes he doesn’t care that he’s fantasizing about his best friend.

 

It’s not the first time Noct’s gotten off to Prompto. Not the first time by far. Even when they were fumbling through whatever they had, Noctis had been in denial. He’d been ashamed and flushing, working one off in the shower, pretending that he was thinking about Luna, about faceless girls, curves and soft breasts and wet heat between their thighs.

 

It’s exhilarating, in a sense, realizing that he doesn’t fucking care that it’s Prompto. This is so many problems on so many levels, but on the most basic one, the one where Noct’s touching himself, fingers wrapped around his erection, thumbing over the tip, free hand dipping lower to tug at his balls, slow and lazy, it’s just good. There’s heat building in his belly, and fast. It’s all blurred memories of being curled up in Prompto’s bed together, sharing that first time, and it’d hurt but it’d felt so fucking good that it hadn’t mattered, not really.

 

Noctis whimpers and bites his lower lip, head tipped back and hips rocking as he strokes himself. He remembers the feeling of their bodies pressed tight, Prompto’s skin flush against his, bright blue eyes searing in. He can practically feel Prompto’s lips on his, their hips working together, touching each other. Noct’s orgasm takes him by surprise, because one moment he’s pretending his hand is Prompto’s, the fingers not his own, his grip shifting and tightening into something rougher, something more reminiscent of his best friend’s. Then next moment, pleasure is exploding in his skull, and he’s gasping, hips jerking up into his fist as he spills all over his belly.

 

Noctis collapses back against the bed. His mind is drifting, world floating around him. Slowly, he comes back down, and maybe he should feel ashamed. He does, in a sense. Prompto’s his best friend. That much has been made clear. It’s different from the usual guilt though. It’s… well, maybe it’s not so bad.

 

Slowly, Noctis kicks his boxers the rest of the way off. He uses them to wipe his stomach clean, bunches up the fabric, and tosses it onto the floor to be cleaned up later. Rolling over back onto his stomach, Noct thinks maybe his head feels a little clearer. Later, the real guilt will sink in, maybe, and he’ll fall into another numb pitfall. Right now though, he’s okay.

 

Noctis picks up his phone, and simply types out, _'bored here without u… see u at 1?’_

 

A few minutes later, his phone sounds the response. _‘cool. I’ll bring home snacks :D’_

 

Noctis smiles. He outright fucking smiles. Even though the idea of rolling over and going back to sleep is really appealing, it’s somehow motivation enough for him to get up. He takes a shower, pours a bowl of cereal, and he’s sitting on the couch staring dutifully into a textbook when the door opens a few hours later, signifying Prompto’s return. There’s a thud and an annoyed sounding groan – the door tends to freeze shut – as Prompto struggles with it, before he gets it open.

 

“Hey,” Noctis lifts his head from his incredibly boring studying. Prompto’s shivering, kicking snow off his boots against the edge of the door and keeping it nudged open with a hip as he makes his way inside. He’s holding a tray of hot drinks and a plastic container of cookies, which immediately catches Noct’s attention.

 

“Hey yourself,” Noctis sets his book aside and shuffles into the kitchen to investigate. Prompto hands over the snacks, and fumbles in his pockets. Setting the tray down on the table, Noctis pops open the container with the cookies and nibbles at the edge of one. The cat saunters into the kitchen, hopping up onto the kitchen table to sniff the treats.

 

“Plans today?” Prompto leans in the doorway, the back door still open as he fumbles around in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter.

 

“Dinner later with my dad,” Noctis says, sipping at his drink – Prompto’s is marked with nonfat milk, as usual – and it’s cold enough outside that the drink has already cooled to a reasonable temperature. “Dude, close the door, it’s freezing in here.”

 

“Bite me,” Prompto rolls his eyes, and steps out onto the back porch again, though he leaves the door open, a draft blowing into the kitchen. “You know the door sticks in the cold. Put a coat on and come outside with me. Otherwise, deal with it.”

 

“It’s freezing, Prom,” Noctis points out, even though he’s sighing, tugging his coat and boots on and shuffling out into the cold afternoon air. Their back deck has been mostly shoveled off, even though it’s slippery and somewhat icy, despite the salt the landlord’s laid down. Prompto’s leaning against the side, one arm hanging over the railing, the other raised as he pulls at the cigarette hanging from his lips.

 

“Rough day?” Noctis nudges his best friend. It’s a bit of a balancing act, getting close without ever getting too close, playing with all those invisible boundaries they don’t talk about. Prompto’s been actively trying to quit over the past couple of weeks, Noctis knows that much, but he breaks down sometimes, still, usually after work.

 

Prompto shrugs, and laughs a little, exhaling smoke into the air. “Not really. Work was slow. Just… I get depressed this time of year, y’know? It’s dumb, Noct, sorry. You don’t need to hear.”

 

Noct’s head is tipped to the side, as he watches his best friend. Prompto’s cheeks are red, and it’s probably just from the cold, but maybe from something else, too. Noct’s biting his lip again, nervous, but he speaks anyway, “Pretty sure you’ve been stuck holding my sorry ass up for weeks now. Think I can lend an ear for my best friend.”

 

Prompto’s more chewing at the end of his cigarette than actually smoking it, his fingers nervously drumming against the frozen wood railing. “Guess that’s true. I’m… okay most of the time. My folks told me they’re traveling for the holidays again this year, though. Emailed me, didn’t bother to call.”

 

Noctis understands complicated parental relationships well. Even if his is shifting, things with his dad slowly getting better, he knows. “What about your uncle?” he asks, quietly, carefully. Another subject they don’t really talk about, ever, but Noctis thinks maybe they should start. Maybe they’re in this mess because they both shut themselves off so much in the ways that really matter.

 

Prompto doesn’t say anything for a while. He lifts his hand to his lips again, and he kills the end of his cigarette against the wood. He barely took more than a couple of puffs. Their eyes meet, momentarily, and all Noctis can do is watch as his best friend looks away again, quickly, leaning both arms over the railing and staring up at the grey sky overhead.

 

“I dunno, Noct. He’s always been around, but… he’s busy. I don’t want to bug anyone. Me ‘n Peanut will have a good time here, anyway. Iggy said he’d host an end of the semester party, too, so… it’ll be fun. Just. Growing up, finding our own way, it sucks, huh?”

 

Noctis understands Prompto’s feelings there. In fact, it’s like Prompto’s reached into his mind and ripped out the things he can’t quite put words to, and voiced them right back at him. It’s… terrifying, really, and it’s maybe the moment that Noctis realizes that even though Prompto’s coping differently – better – that they’re so much alike, it’s scary. Even if Prompto’s worked some things out first, maybe there are other things Noctis is better at.

 

They’re like pieces of a puzzle. It’s both terrifying and perfect.

 

“Growing up sucks, Prom,” Noctis agrees with a laugh. He leans in, and their shoulders brush. Prompto’s head tips against his, and for a little while, it’s them, alone in the world, nothing else around them.

 

\---

 

Of course, life has a way of kicking a person, right when they think they’re finally on the way back up. It sneaks up on you, and one minute everything is fine, the next it’s propelling you back in a downward spiral. Or, maybe that’s dramatics, honestly, but Noctis feels like there’s some accuracy to the statement. He’s trying to study, but instead he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Noct’s thoughts are a mess, because he’s not sure where things stand anymore. He’s been giving Prompto his space. He’s been treading so damn carefully - so why does it feel like they’re both reaching for the same thing?

 

Maybe Noctis would lie here longer, contemplating that, and the meaning in life, staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows slowly spread and shift as the sun moves across the sky and begins to set. Maybe he’d fall asleep like this. But life isn’t that gentle today.

 

“Noct?”

 

Prompto’s voice breaks the silence. Noctis shifts, sits up and glances over at the door, fixing his best friend with a look. Prompto sounds… well. Noct’s not sure. Maybe a little concerned, with just the first hints of quiet panic. It tugs at Noct’s heart instantly, has his mind spiraling in a very different direction, one that simultaneously makes him want to hide, and want to draw Prompto into a comforting embrace. Fuck.

 

“What’s up?” Noctis says, trying to keep it casual.

 

“Uh, is the cat in your bed?” Prompto’s eyes are sweeping across the room though. Noct’s lying on top of his bed. It’s not really made - it’s never made, not really, since he’s a lazy college kid - but the blankets, even if they’re wrinkled, have been smoothed down some. There is a distinct lack of cat-shaped lump there, and they both know it.

 

“I haven’t seen him,” Noctis admits, with a slow frown. Realization is dawning on him. “Why?”

 

Prompto sighs shakily, and Noctis can see, by the way he’s leaning into the door, by the way his cheeks are flushed and his fingers are tugging at the hem of his shirt, that he’s nervous. “He normally follows me everywhere, and I can’t find him. I looked around and he’s not in his usual hiding spots… ”

 

“Well,” Noctis chews on his lip, “he was in the kitchen earlier, so--”

 

So what? He must be around? Noctis can’t even finish the thought, because Prompto had left the back door open. Noctis had left it ajar, too, when he’d gone out and hung out with Prompto while he smoked. Neither of them had seen the cat dart out - but how much attention had they been paying to that? Noct is pretty sure that it’s entirely possible, probable even, that they didn’t notice.

 

And Prompto, of course, is quickly coming to the same conclusion. Their eyes meet, and they both know.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto says, with that hint of panic rising in his voice, “ _fuck_ , Noct, it’s been like almost two hours. He isn’t anywhere in the apartment, I looked. We gotta go find him, please Noct…”

 

Noctis had agreed to take the cat in because Prompto had wanted to. He’s had a very love-hate relationship with the creature all along, because the cat absolutely does not like him. Noctis is pretty sure his relationship with the cat, in fact, is outright abusive. Peanut is not a nice cat, only interested in his own selfish cat purposes. Of course, Noct is still climbing out of bed and throwing on a heavy sweater, because if Prompto’s upset, Noctis wants to be at his best friend’s side. It’s partly that they’re best friends. It’s part that, in Noct’s mind, they are already so much more. It’s the fact that he’s already inadvertently caused his best friend so much pain.

 

And okay, maybe Noctis loves the damn cat too.

 

“C’mon,” Noctis says as he tucks his phone and keys in his pocket and tugs his shoes on, “let’s go, then.”

 

An hour or so later, they’ve gotten nowhere. The snow is packed down hard enough that if Peanut left prints, they’re too faint for them to make out. They walked the whole block, around in circles, Prompto with a bag of treats in his hand, and the terror in the air is tangible.

 

“What if he got hit by a car, Noctis?” Prompto, at some point abandoned all attempts at being cool and collected. His cheeks are flushed, from cold and from the rush of emotion. Noct’s hands are numb, and he’s sure Prompto’s are too, even though he’s clinging to the little bag of cat treats, shaking it. They’ve encountered a few strays, but no familiar feline faces.

 

“We found him on the street,” Noctis points out, and he’s trying to be the voice of reason. “Peanut’s a smart cat. He’ll be fine.” He’s got a sinking feeling in his stomach though. It’s freezing out. The temperature is supposed to drop even more overnight, and there’s warnings of a storm in the coming week. It’s a very Not Good situation. They’ve fully combed a three block radius and they’ve had absolutely no luck. It’s also already getting fully dark out, and pretty soon they’ll be relying fully on streetlights. They don’t even have the light of day on their side.

 

Noctis is pretty sure he’s only holding it together because Prompto’s eyes are wet with tears that are already freezing in the cold early winter air, and if they both lose it, then what?

 

“Noct, I… we can’t stop looking,” Prompto protests, stubbornly, because they’ve looped back onto their street. They’re standing in front of the front steps to their apartment, and Prompto’s on the verge of a meltdown. Noctis carefully, gently, reaches a hand out, brushes it over Prompto’s forearm; his best friend doesn’t draw away, but there’s a visible tremor. Whether it’s from the cold, the reality of the situation, or something more, Noctis doesn’t even want to begin to speculate on.

 

Whatever it is, it doesn’t help the situation. It’s all a little bit hopeless.

“ _Prom,_ " Noctis says quietly, “it’s already dark. Let’s make some signs. I googled it and cats usually stay close to home, we’ll put some food and his bed out on the deck and maybe he’ll come back…”

 

Noctis hates the way Prompto looks at him. But the cold is biting into them both. They’re both shivering, exhausted, stressed beyond all belief, and it’s the damn harsh truth of the matter. They’re doing absolutely nothing productive running themselves ragged like this.

 

Noctis doesn’t know what’s worse. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s almost - almost - grateful that all the other issues have kinda faded into the background because this is so much more pressing than all of his dumb, crippling issues. Maybe it’s the way that Prompto nods slowly, looks down at the icy, hardened snow lining the curb of the street they’re standing in front of. Resigned. Accepting.

 

Maybe it’s the fucking fact that Prompto lifts a hand, places it over Noct’s, and suddenly, that little touch is everything. Like they’re holding onto each other, using the other’s solid presence as an anchor. Because Noct’s pretty sure if he didn’t have Prompto here, if his best friend wasn’t so close to a meltdown, Noctis himself would be plummeting that direction. He’d be thinking about how helpless he is right now. About the fact that their stupid little cat, the one who curls up against his side for warmth, snuggling in, the dumb creature who steals his cereal milk and swipes food off his plate, is alone and cold and facing any number of dangers.

 

If Noctis was in a better place, it’d be a good moment for self-discovery and introspection, where he’d realize that he’s made progress on this journey of his. Before, maybe, he’d be so caught up in his own feelings that he would get lost in it all, instead of focusing on his best friend’s feelings. But he’s still got a lot of growing to do, and he doesn’t make it that far.

 

It doesn’t mean that Noct is any less concerned about Prompto though.

 

“You’re right,” Prompto says quietly. “I… thanks, Noct.”

 

“We’ll find him,” Noctis replies, quickly, instantly. “Trust me, okay?”

 

When they get inside, Noctis makes a quick attempt at cleaning up his desk. It’s a half-assed one, more than anything. He’s doing a little better, but it’s still littered with soda cans and empty snack wrappers. His trash can needs to be emptied. There’s a little bit of shame rising, but Noctis quickly pushes that aside, tossing all the trash into an empty plastic bag from a convenience store run a few days ago.

 

Noctis really needs to figure out the whole ‘cleaning up after himself’ part of adulting, but that’s another issue. It’s an unimportant one.

 

He powers his computer on, and Prompto peeks his head in. “My printer’s out of ink,” he confesses, cheeks already pink from the cold, but flushing even more.

 

“Mine isn’t,” Noctis vaguely gestures, and Prompto shuffles over, leaning over the back of Noct’s chair, hovering, still in that vague panicky state he’s been struggling through all afternoon now. “You should pick the picture you wanna use. We can print off a bunch and hang them on poles.”

 

Prompto nods, and tugs out his phone, digging through what Noctis assumes is an entire album of stupid cat photos in search of the perfect one. Noctis waits, somewhat impatiently, for his computer to finish booting, and the buzzing of his phone distracts him, momentarily.

 

It’s a text from his dad. _'Hello, son, i’m on my way, any dinner ideas?’_

 

Fuck. Noctis had forgotten that he’d rescheduled dinner plans with his dad for today. It had absolutely slipped his mind, with everything else going on. He frowns, and glances over his shoulder at Prompto. His best friend’s eyes are brimming, and he’s shifting his weight back and forth, shuffling from side to side, all nervous energy and thinly veiled stress. Prompto, Noctis is pretty sure, is on the verge of a panic attack. Noctis himself isn’t much better.

 

He feels bad about canceling on his dad. He feels even worse about the prospect of abandoning Prompto again.

 

Noctis frowns. He chews his lip, and there’s an idea dawning. It’s a very uncharacteristic idea. Or, hell, maybe it’s an idea that showcases all of New Noctis, the person he really wants to be, the person he’s struggling toward. Whatever. Details don’t matter.

 

“Hey Prom,” Noctis says slowly, “... my dad and I were supposed to do dinner.” Prompto opens his mouth - presumably to insist that he’s okay, that Noctis should go, that he’ll be fine (he’s not fine) - but Noctis keeps talking, before Prompto can get a word in, before he can lose his nerve. “Mind if I get him to pick up some takeout for us? He can probably help us put up signs. I mean, since he’s got the car and all…”

 

Prompto falls silent, and Noctis immediately regrets the suggestion. He hasn’t even asked his dad. Maybe his father will think it’s stupid. Maybe it’ll be weird, since his dad knows. He’s about to tell Prompto nevermind, that it was dumb, that he’ll just cancel his plans, but Prompto gives a little nod, eyes brimming with emotion, spiky bangs falling over his eyes, and Noctis thinks that his best friend might even look flustered. It’s really, really goddamn appealing.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto’s voice is a little hesitant, but surprisingly welcoming. “... I mean, if you think that’s a good idea. I dunno, are things still… _weird?_ With your dad, I mean.”

 

Noctis shrugs, “everything in my life is weird. But he’ll want to help, I think.”

 

He shoots off a quick text to his dad, giving a very brief overview ( _'prompto’s cat got out, we’re making signs, think we could do take out n u can help us?’_ ) and yeah, he’s definitely nervous, definitely fidgeting in his seat and pretending he’s not staring at his phone out of the corner of his eye as he opens up a blank template to design a ‘missing’ sign.

 

His phone buzzes, and there’s a horrible feeling in Noct’s stomach, followed by a quick, strange mix of relief and elation as his father replies, _‘dad to the rescue! Be there with food and mad cat detection skills.’_

 

Noctis rolls his eyes and holds his phone up for Prompto to see. His best friend leans in, and cracks a little laugh, tentative and shaky, but a laugh nonetheless. “Dude. Your dad is the best.”

 

“He’s the absolute worst. His jokes are bad, Prom, they’re really bad.”

 

It’s somehow made the mood a bit brighter though. Prompto settles on a photo of Peanut to use, and they draft up a quick ‘MISSING CAT’ flyer, with phone numbers and contact information and any other pertinent information. They’re printing out a big stack when the doorbell sounds.

 

Noctis climbs out of his chair, and it’s obvious that they’re both a little nervous. It’s dumb. Noct’s dad has met Prompto countless times. Prompto spent a good deal of time at his dad’s condo back when Noctis lived at home in high school, and even if his dad wasn’t around a whole lot, he was there enough to be on rather friendly terms. His dad’s bought his best friend birthday gifts, fuck, he’s paying both of their rent. Noctis is pretty sure that this isn’t anything different. It feels different though, now that his dad knows about how Noctis feels. It’s… well, Noctis pushes the weirdness aside.

 

He probably should’ve made a better attempt at cleaning the apartment, too, but he realizes that a little too late, as he’s already opening the front door and offering his dad a faint, rueful smile. “Hey, dad.”

 

“Hay is for horses, Noctis,” his father replies swiftly. Noctis groans, and in the background, his head peeking out from inside Noct’s room, Prompto giggles.

 

“ _Hello,_ Mr. Caelum,” Prompto says with a smart little smile. Noctis realizes immediately that this might be a bad idea, because his father is giving him a look. It’s a look that Noctis has learned to associate with his dad being in a particularly cringey, embarrassing mood.

 

“Prompto, I’ve told you at least a hundred times. It’s Regis. I’m not that old,” his dad laughs though, shaking his head. Noctis groans, opens his mouth to apologize for how awkward his dad is, but Prompto’s already smiling a little wider, shuffling into the hallway. Noctis is grateful, at least, that his dad’s got his arms full of a big paper bag of food. It smells delicious, too; Noct’s mouth is watering already. He hasn’t even realized how fucking hungry he was until this moment. Stress does that, after all, and it’s been one hell of a day.

 

“Sorry Mr. Caelum,” Prompto echoes with another smile, but he’s reaching to take the bag from Noct’s dad, as Noctis stands there, more than a little useless. The downside to all this is that now that his father’s arms are free, he’s putting a hand on Noct’s shoulder and giving him another one of those looks, one that’s communicating something, and Noctis thinks maybe he’s finally learning to read his dad. It’s a meaningful look, and even if there’s a nuance he can’t understand, he’s on the way.

 

“Sorry that the place is a mess, dad, it’s… been a day,” Noctis says quietly as Prompto bounds into the kitchen to plate up the food. Noctis feels a bit guilty about it, but he’s pretty sure his best friend needs something to keep him busy, all that nervous energy and worry and concern about the cat weighing him down. Hell, it’s weighing Noctis down too, more than he wants to admit, and he has to pull away, to turn his eyes down to the floor because looking at his dad is stirring it all up, making him feel mixed up and confused and small again.

 

“It’s fine, Noctis,” his dad replies. “I lived with you for eighteen years. I’m well aware of your living habits.”

 

Noctis doesn’t bother to argue that. He has the presence of mind to take his dad’s coat and hang it up in the closet, at least - maybe he’s not so hopeless after all; Ignis would be proud - and rubs at the back of his head as he chews at his lip, nervous, carefully considering his words.

 

“Dad. I… this is… things are still complicated, okay?” Noctis is hesitant, even as he hears the clatter of plates and silverware as Prompto sets the table. Maybe this was a bad idea. Things are still not entirely normal between him and his father. They’re definitely not normal between him and Prompto, either. Noctis kinda wishes he’d just canceled the dinner.

 

“He’s a good friend,” is all his father offers up, with a simple smile. “Noctis, stop worrying so much. We’ll have a quick dinner and I’ll help you boys look for your cat.”

 

“Right,” Noctis nods. It doesn’t have to be anything else. It’s just like high school, like the countless days where Prompto spent the night and his father would bring them all food on his way home from work after a late day at the office. It’s all silly banter and casual talk and Noctis pretending that everything is okay, even though his relationship with his dad is a mess. Even though really, he thinks he can trace back the roots of these feelings way further than he’s ready to admit. Maybe this has been a long time coming.

 

None of that matters though.

 

He’s having dinner with his dad and his best friend, and Noctis has _no_ idea what his relationship is with either party at this point. It’s all a mess. And somewhere outside, their cat is missing, and Noctis really just wants to cry. But Prompto calls out, “hey, food’s gonna get cold!” So Noctis pushes all that aside. He has to, doesn’t he?

 

Growing up really sucks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delayed update! I was on vacation! This chapter was partially written in the airport on my phone. Do you know how awful it is to format this shit to post on ao3 from mobile? None of my google docs formatting copied over so I had to manually add paragraphs and italics in lmao. 
> 
> Anyway, apologies if there are typos. I will go over it again when I get home in the morning! 
> 
> One of my friends predicted where I was going with this, damnit, but I have a final outline for this fic and I'm sticking with it damnit! 
> 
> On Tumblr @destatree / twitter @thatdest . thank you all for being patient with the slow update, back to normal schedule now!!!


	30. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thanks,” Noct says, and he means it, fully and sincerely. “I know I’ve been… a mess. And you guys keep cleaning up after me. I promise I’m trying to do better though.”
> 
>  
> 
> Gladio rolls his eyes and claps his hand down on Noct’s shoulder again, rough and hard, enough that it makes Noct’s legs buckle and a wince cross his face. “You’re already doing better, kid. Give yourself a bit more credit."

Dinner, all things considered, doesn’t go horribly. It’s certainly not the best, of course. But that can be chalked up to the fact that the cat is gone, that Noctis and Prompto have this weird unresolved sexual tension, and that Noct’s pretty sure his dad is very goddamn aware of that fact. Maybe he’s just hypersensitive to it all. He doesn’t know.

 

Either way, Noctis picks a bit at his fried rice and egg rolls. The rolls have cabbage in them, and he’s forced to have an internal dilemma about whether or not it’s worth eating them to get to all the good bits, because it’s not a food that Noctis can easily pick through. He’s pretty sure his dad purposely catered more to Prompto’s tastes, too, because the rice has little bits of scallions that he has to push to the edge of his plate. There’s carrots in there too, slightly less offensive, but still pushed aside.

 

“Ready for exams?” Noct’s dad asks conversationally, as they eat. Prompto’s devouring his food – he’s always been a stress eater – and he offers up at pathetic look as he gulps down a mouthful of food.

 

“I _really_ suck at tests. I dunno, Mr. Caelum, I feel like I’m ready, but…” Prompto shrugs, and tries to smile. It looks a little bit like he can’t decide if he’s embarrassed by this fact, or just ready to burst into tears.

 

Noct’s father nods, and offers up an encouraging smile that has Noct’s stomach doing a flip. His dad is _trying._ It’s becoming more and more obvious, as they spend more time together, as Noctis learns how to read his father’s expressions and the subtle nuance behind everything he does. It’s nice. It makes one aspect of his life a little less confusing.

 

“I never tested well either, Prompto. Memorizing aimless facts so you can sit and regurgitate them for three hours never seemed terribly useful to me,” Noct’s dad is saying, as he passes over the carton of rice to Prompto, who eagerly dumps seconds on his plate.

 

“That mean I can drop outta college and you’ll support me, dad?” Noctis pipes up with a half-smile as he takes a bite of his blissfully de-veggied rice.

 

“If you’re just being a smartass Noctis, _no._ If it’s what you want to do, we’ll talk,” Noct’s dad replies swiftly, with an alarming smile that honestly takes Noctis off guard. He hates how just when he thinks he has it all figured out, that he’ll grow up and make his dad proud, that he’ll go to college and figure out his shit with the business, his dad turns around and throws a curveball at him like this.

 

“Guess we better figure out that business plan then, huh, Prom?” Noctis laughs a little.

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, “yeah right, Noct. You’re not the one who’s gonna flunk out on exams. _You’ve_ got nothing to worry about. I did _not_ need all this shit to happen right now. Talk about bad timing, huh?” Prompto trails off, sounding a little rueful, and more than a little embarrassed as he tips his head and catches a glimpse of Noct’s father. “… sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to rant.”

 

“Something the matter?” Regis asks, careful to sound casual, and Noctis totally picks up on it. Goddamnit. His father’s going into Dad Mode. Noctis and his father have had their issues over the year, but he distinctly remembers Dad Mode from his teenage years, mostly on nights when his dad actually came home early enough to catch him staying out way too late with his best friend. They’d never gotten into real trouble, of course, mostly just spent way too much money at the arcade, but the memories are there all the same.

 

“Prompto and I were just talkin’ about the holidays, that’s all,” Noctis says quickly, with a shrug. “Our first year in the apartment, y’know? It’s… weird. Different from being at home still.”

 

Noctis gives his dad a _look._ He’s a little proud of it. He’s pretty sure he learned that particular look from his father, after all. His father’s expression betrays nothing.

 

“Speaking of the holidays, Noctis," his dad says, instead, "I’ve got to return to Tenebrae. Only for a few days, but I was thinking… maybe you’d like to come again. Since our last trip was called short. They have amazing fireworks that time of year.”

 

Noctis opens his mouth to protest, to find a way to shut his dad down, because after Prompto’s miniature meltdown earlier about being alone over the holidays, there’s no way Noct is gonna abandon him. Not like before. He’s learned his lesson. His dad, however, doesn’t give him the chance to say anything, because he’s continuing on, swift and smooth.

 

“Actually, maybe you’d _both_ like to come along?”

 

Noctis blinks. Prompto looks like he’s going to drop his fork on his plate. He seems to catch himself though, and for a just a moment, their heads both tip to the side, and there’s a strange moment of eye contact, one where Noct is nervously glancing at his best friend and they’re caught in a strange back-and-forth. There’s a little undercurrent running through the room, an energy that’s half nerves, half something else, and Noctis isn’t gonna lie, he doesn’t quite understand it.

 

“Yea—“ Noctis starts to say, slowly.

 

“Thanks for the offer, but I should probably stay here—“ Prompto interrupts, in the exact same moment, their words clashing awkwardly.

 

Noctis flushes and dips his head down. He sneaks a glance up at his best friend, and Prompto’s given up on his own food too, poking at it with a fork, cheeks just as bright red.

 

“I mean,” Noctis quickly says, “if Prompto doesn’t want to… I’ll have to think about it, dad. I should probably stay here.”

 

Fuck. He’s making things weird again. Noctis sinks down in his seat a little.

 

“No. I… if _you_ want me to…” Prompto replies back, just as fast, maybe even just as awkwardly. “I mean. I’ve never been to Tenebrae. Has to beat being at home. Not that I’m not _okay_ with staying home, I just-- it’s up to you Noct…”

 

Prompto trails off. Noctis doesn’t entirely know what to say.

 

The two of them fall silent, and there’s a weird awkward tension in the room, one where both of them are red and flushing a little. Noct’s mind is racing, and there’s a million questions. Prompto wants to go away with him and his dad for the holidays? Or is he just being polite? They probably need to talk about this, and it’s not something Noctis is sure he wants to face. It’s bringing up all the other things, the fact that their friendship is slowly becoming _something_ again. Noctis is terrified of the prospect of that. He doesn’t think he can face another rejection. And even though it feels different now, it’s still unpredictable, it’s still a confusing mess.

 

“Well,” Noct’s dad says finally, after a few more moments of that awkward, creeping silence permeating the room. “I suppose you boys have some talking to do! Let me know in a few days, Noctis, so I can make arrangements, sound good?”

 

Noctis nods silently, dumbly, and his father smiles. “Good. So, Prompto. I was awful with exams, too, maybe I could offer you a few study tips? Of course, we have to get those flyers posted outside, too…”

 

Prompto seems to recover quickly, at least, and he’s falling into bright conversation with Noct’s dad. Noctis is grateful, honestly, that they aren’t paying him a good deal of attention here. He’s fidgeting a little, mostly poking at his food and pretending that he understands exactly what’s going on here. Is this his dad’s attempt at getting them _together?_ It sure seems like it. Noctis doesn’t really think he’s entirely opposed, either. That last trip, it had felt incomplete. He’d wanted Prompto there, experiencing it all.

 

Noctis realizes he’ll have to tell Luna. After he talks about it with Prompto. Because they’re _going_ to have to talk about it.

 

Talking. Fuck.

 

He’s still picking at his food when his dad and Prompto finish eating. Noct’s stomach is doing little flips, and he hastily dumps what’s left of his meal in the trash. Noct’s pretty sure Prompto’s taking all of his dad’s dumb advice to heart, and whether that’s because it’s legitimate advice, or simply a distraction from the fact that the cat is missing, Noctis doesn’t care to really figure out. He’s beginning to realize, too, that even though Prompto never talks about it, maybe he’s got his own hang ups about his own parents.

 

They’re too damn similar after all, aren’t they?

 

“Well,” Noct’s father is saying, as he – with Prompto’s assistance – cleans up the dishes and gets the dishwasher going, “let’s see about putting those signs up, hm? We can take a quick drive around looking, too, but I really don’t think you’re going to find much in the dark, boys.”

 

“Whatever help you wanna give, dad, it’s appreciated,” Noctis quickly replies. He realizes he’s been silent for most of this damn meal while his dad and Prompto shoot the shit. He doesn’t feel like an outsider, which is the surprising thing. He just feels… _weird_ about it. Weird. Yeah. Everything comes back to being weird.

 

“We already printed the flyers out,” Prompto offers up. “I’ll go get them ready!”

 

Prompto bounds out of the kitchen and down the hallway, and Noctis stands there awkwardly, looking down at the floor, at the wall, anywhere that isn’t his dad. It doesn’t help that his father is giving him a _look,_ one that Noctis thinks he really _does_ recognize, understand even.

 

“I’m sorry, Noctis,” his dad says quietly, voice dropping to little more than a whisper. Their apartment is long and echoes easily, and Noctis only _hopes_ that Prompto can’t hear. “… maybe I should have brought it up with you privately, first. But it seemed like a good time to mention it.”

 

Noctis flushes a little, and he lifts his eyes, forces himself to meet his dad’s. His father’s eyes are kind, _understanding,_ and hell, it’s a little jolt that goes right through him. Have they really somehow managed to make it to this place? Just a few months back, he was outright avoiding his dad, avoiding this subject, avoiding the fact that the mere _thought_ of his best friend has his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs filling with sand.

 

“It’s okay, dad. I… think we’ll probably go. Just gotta talk it over, y’know?” Noctis hopes he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels. He also knows he _definitely_ does both sound and look as awkward as he feels. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, fidgeting a little and shifting his weight back and forth. It only gets worse, too, because his dad takes a step forward, places a hand on his shoulder, and Noctis damn near jumps at the contact.

 

His dad’s voice is quiet, reassuring still, and it has Noctis feeling light-headed for a whole new number of reasons. “Promise you’ll tell me if you want me to back off, Noctis? It’s my _job_ to embarrass you but… we’re both new at this.”

 

Noctis can’t help it; he laughs a little. The sound is infectious, because his dad laughs quietly too, and the awkwardness is broken, at least for the moment.

 

“You never really dated in high school, you know,” his dad says, as he lifts his hand away, and Noctis takes the opportunity to busy himself with digging around in the fridge for the half-full energy drink he’s stashed in there. It’s going to be a long night, and he’s a little bit addicted to the stupid things.

 

“Never had anyone I was interested in,” Noctis says with a shrug. That’s not entirely true, he’s beginning to realize. He was just too foolish to really know any better.

 

“I suppose,” his dad replies. Noctis is well aware he’s not fooling anyone.

 

Prompto re-enters the room a few minutes later, already wearing his jacket and his shoes, and he has a big stack of the papers tucked under his arms, as well as a stapler that he’d managed, miraculously, to find lying around in the apartment.

 

“C’mon, Noctis,” Prompto’s half-whining, half-begging, as he reaches for Noct’s arm and gives an urgent tug, “get dressed, we gotta get out of here, the sooner people know Peanut’s missing the better…!”

 

Noctis offers his dad a final, lingering glance, and he has to wonder – did any of this come as such a surprise to his dad in the first place? Maybe it’s been obvious all along. It’s a thought for another time, a discussion for Future Noctis, a distant conceptual version of himself who has his shit together, because right now, they have a more urgent task at hand.

 

\---

 

In the end, Noct’s dad drives them around for the better part of two hours. They plaster the neighborhood with flyers stapled to fences and phone poles and on campus boards and in some nearby shops that give them permission. It’s a bit of overkill, really. And then after that, Noct’s dad still keeps driving, and they circle the blocks a few times, desperately looking out in the darkness. Once, they spot a cat, and Prompto screams and gestures for Regis to pull over.

 

It’s just a stray though, not their familiar cat, and they go home empty-handed.

 

“You really think he’s okay?” Prompto says later. He’s sitting on Noct’s bed. They’re trying to study for exams – because what else can they do? Both of their phones are turned on. Noctis even has the volume on his phone turned on. He’s pretty sure that for once, he’s willing to answer a call from an unknown number, cuz both of their numbers are listed on the signs, just in case.

 

Noctis is studying accounting again. He’s somehow doing well in the class, but it makes his head spin a little. It’s math without really being math. He’s got his book open on his bed. He’s kinda barely holding it together here, if he’s being honest. This day was exhausting. Spending time with both Prompto and his dad, it’s worn him down. But he gets the feeling that Prompto’s about a step away from a meltdown, and somehow every time Noctis closes his eyes, every time the words that he’s going to bed start to form on his tongue, he pictures his best friend, alone in bed and crying, missing that goddamn cat.

 

And, Noct’s eyes feel watery too, because fuck, he misses the stupid creature. It’s especially noticeable he’s gone, with the way their textbooks and notes are spread out around them, and there’s no cat sprawled lazily across the sheets, getting the way, batting at the papers and invading their personal space without a care in the world.

 

“We’ll find him, Prom,” Noctis says softly. He isn’t so sure, honestly. There’s a good chance that someone else will take the cat in, just like they did. There’s an even better chance – and Noct fucking hates that he’s thinking it – that something happened, that a car, or the cold, or a wild animal…

 

Noctis takes a deep, shuddering breath. He lifts his head from his notes. Prompto’s looking at him.

 

The light in Noct’s room is dim. Not so dim that they can’t see what they’re reading, but enough that it’s probably bad on their eyes. The shadows are catching in Prompto’s hair. His eyes are shining, brimming with an emotion that Noctis can recognize. They’re both stressed out, alone, a little afraid. Noctis realizes he wants to reach a hand out, to trace it over Prompto’s jaw, to run his fingers up across the curve of his cheek, to brush fingertips over freckles and connect them with gentle little touches. It’s like Prompto’s a map, like figuring out the pattern to those little dots on his cheeks, connecting them just the right way, it’ll show Noctis the way out of all this mess.

 

It’s a stupid thought, one that has Noctis flushing a little, squirming where he’s sitting. More than anything, Noctis is pretty sure he needs to get a fucking grip of himself, that he needs to stop thinking like this.

 

“I hope we do, Noct,” Prompto says quietly. Their eyes meet, and Prompto looks sad, but hopeful. Hope. That’s a good thought. It’s something they can cling onto. There’s a moment where Noctis leans in, just a little. Prompto’s mirroring his actions, leaning closer.

 

It’s a bit intoxicating, really, how _good_ Prompto looks like this, Noctis thinks. His best friend’s a bit fidgety. His shirt’s slipping down one shoulder, revealing a pale, freckled shoulder. It’d be easy to close the distance between them again, to fall back into whatever the hell they’d been playing at months ago. It’s _too_ damn easy, and just so dangerous. Noctis draws back a little, and he’s pretty sure his cheeks are flushing.

 

Now isn’t the time. Maybe there isn’t a time, but it’s definitely not right now, when Prompto’s upset, when Noct’s upset too, when they both just really want their damn cat back.

 

“Noct?” Prompto says a little bit later. They’re back to studying. Noct’s head hurts. He feels a migraine coming on, probably from stress, or maybe the fact that he’s been working so hard to hold it together. His jaw hurts, probably from gritting his back teeth together. He’s still _tired_ from therapy the day before. Noctis still hasn’t quite worked out how that whole thing goes, how it’s possible to get so worn out just from talking about his feelings a bit.

 

“Mm?” Noctis is chewing on the end of his pen, occasionally drawing it from his lips to highlight or underline passages that may or may not have any significance whatsoever. He’s too tired really to decipher the relevant information from the filler.

 

Prompto hesitates, and Noctis tips his head to the side, lifting his head to catch his best friend’s eyes.

 

“… can I stay here tonight? With you, I mean?” Prompto flushes a little, fidgeting again, fingers creeping across the heavy blanket on Noct’s bed, finding a loose hem to fiddle with, all nervous gestures. “… you know. Just to sleep.”

 

Noctis is torn between flushing and rolling his eyes and laughing. _Just to sleep._ As if Prompto really needed to clarify that bit. If there’s one goddamn thing he’s certain of in this world, it’s that he’s learned his lesson about jumping into bed with his best friend without giving the consequences a second thought until it’s way too late.

 

“Yeah,” Noct’s surprised with how quickly the words fall from his lips. “… I’m kinda tired. You wanna put on a movie and go to bed?”  


Prompto looks relieved. Their eyes meet again, and Noct’s pretty sure he can see an entire universe mapped out in Prompto’s freckles, all swirling constellations against the curve of cheekbone.

 

“That sounds good,” Prompto agrees, and they’re quick to close up their books, to hastily cram notes back into binders and to lean over the side of the bed and lay it all in a pile on the floor. Noctis turns his computer monitor on, angles it in the direction of the bed and puts on a queue of random crappy cartoons before they’re settling back in, crawling under the covers and tugging pillows close.

 

Neither of them are really paying attention to the show that’s playing, even though they’re both pretending they are. They’re close, closer maybe than they’ve been in ages, even though they shared Prompto’s tiny bed that one time, during the snowstorm. Prompto presses himself up close, and Noct’s breath catches in his throat at the contact. He’s thanking whatever lucky stars he has that he’s way too fucking caught off guard, way too _damn_ nervous for his body to react naturally because that would be impossibly embarrassing.

 

“This is okay, right?” Prompto asks slowly, more than a little sheepish. His head is tucked back against Noct’s chest, and they’re outright spooning, both of their eyes focused on the screen, without really processing what’s actually happening. Noctis doesn’t know exactly what to do with his arms. There’s an instinct to curl it around Prompto’s waist. In a different time, before the whole _sex_ thing started, he probably would’ve done just that. Looking back, they’ve been cuddling like this, overtly affectionate and more than just normal friends, for a long time. It’s dawning on Noct, a little bit at a time, that maybe this has been a long time coming.

 

It’s nice, to be back here, at least. Even if _this_ is how it stays. Even if his stomach is doing more flips than it used to, even if Noct’s painstakingly aware of every little shift of Prompto’s body, of the warmth between them.

 

“Noct?” Prompto says, after a long moment. Noct’s already starting to drift off. His mind is fuzzy, and his eyes keep sliding shut, the world feeling heavy around them. The words jolt Noctis back a little bit, enough that he has the presence to blink, bleary and slow, and draw back just a little, to keep from getting _too_ comfortable.

 

“Mmm?” Noctis mumbles, “sup Prom?”

 

Prompto tips his head back a little, and their eyes meet. It’s an intimate position, and Noctis is painfully aware that his heart is trying to drum out of his chest.

 

“… about what your dad said. Tenebrae?”

 

Noct’s cheeks flush a little, even as tired as he is, the embarrassment of earlier cutting through a little, sharpening his mind. “Fuck, Prom. I forgot ‘bout that. Sorry.”

 

Prompto shakes his head and laughs a little, and they’re close enough that Noctis feels the vibration of it echoing back through his own body, going straight to that steady pounding of his heart.

 

“ ‘s fine, Noct. I… wanna go. If that’s okay with you. I don’t wanna get in the way of you and your dad, if it’s too weird.”

 

Noctis doesn’t answer right away, but he offers a shy little smile and nods. His mind isn’t working entirely right, even though he’s seeing the scene with a newfound crystal clarity. That’s why Prompto was so reluctant, and it’s a relief. Maybe things aren’t weird. It all comes back to the idea, that ridiculous concept that things are only weird if Noctis _makes_ them weird, right?

 

“I want you to come along,” he says quietly.

 

Prompto nods. “… sounds like a plan, Noct.”

 

Noctis smiles, and the world seems to feel a little warmer, a little safer. It’s not quite as nerve-wracking that Prompto’s in his bed, that they’re cuddling close, that they’re toeing that damn line again. “Sounds like a plan,” Noctis echoes, closing his eyes, and he drifts off quickly, lulled by the sound of the show playing on his computer, and the warmth of his best friend.

 

In the morning, when Noctis wakes up, Prompto’s already out of bed. That’s probably for the best, because it’s a little hard to breathe.

 

He’s torn, because he doesn’t want to get out of bed, but at the same time, staying under the warm covers, in his big bed, _alone,_ feels a little bit like suffocating. Noct’s mind is tripping over itself, because what the fuck has he done? He’s just agreed to go away with his best friend – who he happens to be in love with – and his dad – he doesn’t know where things stand there, still – and Luna’s going to be there, and _oh shit,_ this is a mess.

 

Noctis crawls out of bed because the alternative is a full-blown panic attack. Prompto’s in the living room playing video games, and thank fucking god he doesn’t come over, because Noctis is tripping over his feet shutting himself in the bathroom He collapses on the shower floor and he’s shaking a little, because this is _a lot._ It’s too damn much, if he’s being honest.

 

Yesterday, he took a step forward. Today, he feels like he took two steps back.

 

These days happen. Noctis tries to tell himself it’s okay, as the hot stream of water falls over his face and he rests his chin against his drawn up knees.

 

When he drags his ass out of the shower, he feels a little bit better. Prompto called into work, and they eat some food and try to study, but mostly just play video games. Prompto gets a few phone calls about the cat, but they’re all false alarms. They go looking again, but Peanut’s nowhere to be found.

 

Noctis doesn’t know if he should offer to let Prompto sleep in his bed again. Instead, they both fall asleep together on the couch. The cold works into Noct’s bones and he aches when he wakes up at four in the morning, but he doesn’t bother to get up, and he fitfully falls back asleep, an arm tentatively curled around his best friend’s waist.

 

\---

 

The week goes by.

 

The first few days, they’re still full of hope. Prompto’s desperately checking his phone at all hours. They get a lead that sounds promising – someone spotted a grey cat with a crooked tail – but when they go to investigate the area, the park a couple of blocks away, there’s nothing to be seen. Another dead end, and a little bit more hope trickling away.

 

Then, it’s a full week that goes by. In therapy, Noctis vents to Monica that he feels like it’s his fault. He should’ve _noticed_ that the door was open, that the cat could get out. After all, the cat had been sitting on the table, watching him. It hadn’t crossed his mind though, and now it’s too late.

 

Monica listens, and she points out that sometimes these things just _happen._

 

Noctis is still writing down his list of things. He’s still doing his one hard task a day, too. It’s getting more difficult though. He’s had a few repeat tasks ‘today I studied for exams’ and his therapist tells him that’s okay. That it still counts, even if he’s finding himself repeating tasks. She says that repetition, patterns and schedules, they create a sense of security.

 

Noctis doesn’t know if he agrees, because ‘my best friend’s cat is missing and it’s driving us both insane’ is not a very good cycle to be in. It makes him feel helpless. He has to admit though, the looming reality of final exams, the fact that he _has_ to study, it keeps him grounded, keeps him from losing it altogether. So maybe there’s some truth to it.

 

It’s not all bad, Noctis supposes. Even if Prompto’s torn up about it, and Noctis too, it’s not quite so bad between them anymore. They don’t share a bed again, but they’re both looking for a reason to stay close, or so it seems. Noctis spends a lot of his nights falling asleep with Prompto on the couch. His back hates him for it, but he keeps doing it. His dad seems truly, honest-to-god happy that Noctis and Prompto are going to go away with him to Tenebrae.

 

Luna, she seems particularly happy.

 

“I can’t wait to see you and Prompto!” she says brightly on the other side of the screen. Noctis video chatted her to tell her the news. It seemed important to break it to Luna, face-to-face like this. Noctis hates to admit how helpful she’s been but… well, there’s a reason they’re still friends after all these years. “Prompto _agreed_ to it?! That’s such good news, Noctis!”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Luna?” Noctis groans. He’s sitting in the living room. Prompto’s still at work. He had called out on a couple of shifts, but as hope dwindles down – it’s been a while now, and they start exams next week – he’s gone ahead and thrown himself headfirst into whatever he can to keep distracted. Noctis isn’t sure if it’s a good coping mechanism. It never really worked well for him, after all. But… Prompto’s his own person, so Noctis keeps watch and says nothing.

 

“It just means that you two are figuring things out,” Luna says with her usual patient, gentle smile. “oh, Noctis, you should meet Nyx! Maybe we can go on a double date… I bet he and Prompto will get along!”

 

“I don’t think a double _date_ is a good idea, Luna,” Noctis tries to reply, but his friend is dismissing him outright, laughing and giggling and making jokes about how blind Noctis is, that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Noctis wants to believe her, he wants to think that maybe this is a sign of something to come, but he can’t quite put his faith there. Not yet.

 

By the weekend, Noctis gets the feeling that Prompto’s given up hope. It’s hard to cling to it. It’s been a full seven days. Then, Sunday rolls around, and it marks eight days. There’s been a couple of _really_ cold nights. There’s been a snowstorm, too. Not a really bad one, not like the first ones they got, but there’s close to a foot of snow on the ground again. It… doesn’t sound good.

 

Prompto’s at work. Noctis is lying in bed, refusing to get up. He’s not having a very good day. He can’t really explain why. It just _is not good._ Apparently, it’s okay to have not good days. That’s a comfort, at least. Noct’s face is buried into the pillow, and he’s trying to fall back asleep.

 

His phone rings, though, and it interrupts his thoughts. He glances at the screen, and it’s an unknown number. Great. Noctis doesn’t answer unknown numbers, out of principle. And hell, maybe there’s a bit of anxiety behind that particular decision, too. Normally, he’d ignore it. But goddamnit, Noctis realizes with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that Prompto had put _his_ number on the sign, too….

 

Sighing, Noctis swipes open his phone. “Hello?”

 

There’s always a bit of anxiety about answering an unknown call. What if the person doesn’t introduce themselves and he has no idea who he’s taking to? If they ask ‘is this Noctis?’ does he answer with ‘yes’ or ‘this is Noctis’ or ‘speaking’ or what? Does it matter? Noct’s pretty sure normal people don’t obsess over stupid things like this, but here you have it, he’s still running every single scenario through his mind simultaneously, getting all worked up over nothing.

 

“Uh. Hi. You the person from the cat poster?”

 

Noctis blinks. Fuck. “Uh. Yeah. I am,” he says quickly, “why, did you find Peanut?”

 

It’s a girl on the other end, and she giggles a little. “Love the name, I gotta say. Uh, I don’t have him, sorry, but my neighbour’s been feeing a cat that looks _exactly_ like him for the past few days. When we saw the sign, we tried to grab him, but he took off… we couldn’t find him, but I thought I’d call. Maybe you’d wanna come by and look?”

 

Noctis is already climbing out of bed, the phone balanced between his cheek and shoulder as he shimmies out of his sleep pants and changes into a pair of jeans and a sweater. It’s funny, how fast his mood has changed, from feeling like shit, unable to get out of bed, to _determined._ He’s going to find Prompto’s goddamn cat.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, tugging on his coat and peeking into Prompto’s room to find the soft carrier bag that they bought for vet visits, in case he finds the cat. “Gimme the address, I’ll be down there in a few…”

 

The address the girl offers is a few blocks away. It’s a spot Noctis and Prompto have searched several times over the past weeks, right next to a little local park, but now, Noct’s got some new motivation. He doesn’t text Prompto about what he’s doing. Prompto’s at work, anyway, and Noctis doesn’t want to get his friend’s hopes up. He texts Ignis and Gladio though. Ignis is busy, but Gladio offers to swing by to help him search.

 

It’s a bit hopeless, really. Noctis knew that going into things.

 

It’s a cold day, and his breath is puffing out in front of him. Noct’s miserably cold, even with his jacket and a sweater and some gloves on. He’s got his hood pulled up over his head. Gladio parks on the side of the street in front of the park and joins him, and they comb through alleyways between buildings and search under decks and in all the little dark, quiet places that he thinks Peanut might be.

 

“Surprised you’re still out here looking,” Gladio says, after a while. They’ve been out here the better part of the afternoon. Noctis recognizes the _look_ in Gladio’s eyes. His friend thinks that it’s a lost cause. Gladio’s always been blunt, to the point, and horribly realistic about things. He’s not saying it, and Noctis appreciates that much, at least. Gladio, at least, thinks it’s a lost cause.

 

“It’s important to Prompto,” Noctis shrugs. His hands are crammed in his pocket. The cat carrier is sitting on a nearby bench, always close by, just in case. “… I dunno, Gladio. I kinda gave up, but this girl _swore_ it looked just like Peanut. It’s only been a week, cats survive longer than that on their own, right?”

 

Gladio shrugs. “It’s a college neighborhood. Lots of young kids with big hearts. Someone probably adopted him, if you want brutal honesty, Noct. Better than the alternative, though.”

 

Noctis frowns. Prompto will be heartbroken if they don’t find the cat. Noctis… he’s not sure how he feels, and he’s pretty sure his own fucking feelings don’t really matter here, either. The thought of Peanut living his days out, happy with another human – or awkward pair of humans – isn’t the worst thing. The uncertainty, though, of never knowing for sure? That’s already eating away at Noctis, making him restless, nervous, _determined._

 

“I’m not giving up,” Noctis says, instead of offering up a proper response. Eventually, it’ll get dark, and he’ll have to leave, but until then, this is the only thing Noct can think to do. “You can leave if you want, Gladio, thanks for the help, but I can’t go.”

 

Of course, Gladio simply shrugs and takes a step forward, a large, heavy hand resting on Noct’s shoulder. “Noctis. I dunno what’s been going through your mind lately, but we’re pretty much brothers. We grew up together. I’ve _always_ got your back.”

 

Noctis manages a little smile, and he tips his head up to catch Gladio’s eyes. Gladio’s only wearing a light jacket, and he doesn’t look _that_ affected by the cold, damn him. He’s grown his hair out longer lately, too, has it tied back. It’s a good look, makes Gladio look older.  It’s always been just the slightest bit intimidating, how much taller and bigger Gladio is. He’s only got three years on Noct, but sometimes it feels like a whole _world_ of age and experience is between them, just by how damn collected and calm Gladio always manages to appear. It’s really not fair.

 

“Thanks,” Noct says, and he means it, fully and sincerely. “I know I’ve been… a mess. And you guys keep cleaning up after me. I promise I’m trying to do better though.”

 

Gladio rolls his eyes and claps his hand down on Noct’s shoulder again, rough and hard, enough that it makes Noct’s legs buckle and a wince cross his face. “You’re already doing better, kid. Give yourself a bit more credit. Now, less talking, more looking, huh?”

 

Noctis manages a little smile, and nods. Gladio’s got a point. Maybe he doesn’t give himself enough credit.

 

So they keep looking. Despite the new burst of optimism, they don’t have any luck. The sun goes down, when Gladio finally throws in the towel.

 

“I hate to leave you, Noct, but I’ve got a work thing I can’t bail on,” Gladio says, as they sit on the park bench. The last bits of light are fading in the horizon. Overhead, there’s a light post, and it’s creating a hazy yellow-white halo of light in the dusky sky. There’s some tree branches hanging down, skeletal and spindly, covered in a thin layer of white snow. The path at their feet is mostly cleared off. They’ve combed everywhere. The backyards of buildings that they have access to. They’ve peeked over fences of the ones they don’t. Gladio – bless his fucking heart – took the initiative to knock on doors and ask people if they’d seen the cat recently. One person said they’d been leaving food out, but it’s been a couple of days since they’ve seen Peanut – if it even _is_ their cat. It’s not like a grey cat is particularly unique.

 

That isn’t good news.

 

“It’s fine, Gladio,” Noctis says, sighing. He’s known it’s a lost cause for a while. It’s stupid, impossible optimism that’s kept him pushing. He wants to believe that hard work and perseverance pays off for once. Life isn’t exactly fair though, and Noctis has, unfortunately, already figured _that_ part of things out.

 

“Want a ride home?” Gladio’s standing up from the bench.

 

Noctis shakes his head. “Nah. I wanna stay a bit longer. I’ll walk home.”

 

“… gimme a call if you need anything, okay? I’m free later if you’re still out here looking,” Gladio offers. Noctis nods. He appreciates the fact that his friend isn’t outright telling him that this is stupid, that it’s time to give up and let go. Gladio’s thinking it, Noct’s sure, but he isn’t saying it.

 

He has good friends. Noctis considers that for a long moment, as he watches Gladio retreat back to his car. He still doesn’t really think he deserves them. But they all seem to think that he’s doing better. Things with Prompto are… not quite weird, but not normal, either. They’re slowly finding their stride again though. And Gladio said he’s doing better, right? Aranea seems pleased with his progress. Hell, even Ignis, even with his giant soft spot for Noct, seems agree.

 

And his dad seems _almost_ proud.

 

Noctis does another comb of the park. He looks under benches, behind trash cans, all stupid places that he’s checked a hundred times over. The wind is picking up, howling as it rushes over the frozen ground and rustles through the bare trees, and it makes Noctis shiver. His back hurts. He needs a good night’s sleep. Prompto will be off work soon.

 

Eventually, he gives up, and turns to leave, to head back home.

 

Sometimes, that’s just how life is. Sometimes, you can do your best, but it’s just not _enough._ It’s a harsh lesson. Noct’s eyes are stinging a little, and maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s unshed tears. His cheeks are red, and his teeth are chattering. It’s really stupid, how he’s managed to come this far, and even though he’s slowly working through his thoughts, slowly fixing his life, it’s not making this stupid fucking cat come home.

 

Or, well, maybe it is.

 

Sometimes, just when things seem hopeless, that’s when life throws you a bone. Sometimes it isn’t all terrible. Sometimes, it’s an exchanged smile, a secretive look that’s a reminder that things will work out, that they’ll be okay. Sometimes, it’s simply an _instinct,_ a feeling that can’t be ignored.

  
That’s the feeling Noctis gets as he starts to walk out of the park. Suddenly, there’s a distinct urge to check along the edge of the park. There’s a few cars parked along the curb, from people who live by the park and don’t have driveways. Noctis can’t really describe _why,_ but it seems important to go over there again. He’s got the soft carrier strapped over his shoulder, and both hands in his pockets.

 

When Noctis ducks down to check under the shadow of one car, his heart stops, because there’s a pair of eyes glowing in the darkness.

 

“Peanut?” Noct’s breath is caught in his throat. He really _shouldn’t_ get his hopes up, but he swears he recognizes those eyes, even though they’re just a flicker in the dark shadows. He crouches down, feet crunching in the snow, reaching into his pocket to grab the little baggie of treats – the cat’s favourite brand – and wave it. “C’mon…”

 

A lot of things could go wrong here. Noct’s damn aware that he’s not Peanut’s favourite human. The cat mostly simply tolerates him. He’s half expecting the cat to dart off into the darkness. The other half of him is certain it won’t be their cat at all, rather another stray. Luck’s on Noct’s side, though, for once. Slowly, the cat saunters out, and it’s _definitely_ theirs.

 

The cat looks quite worse for wear. He’s thinner than before, and one ear is torn and bleeding. He’s limping, too, one paw with a deep gash in it that doesn’t look good. But it’s definitely Peanut. He makes a quiet chirping noise, and rubs his cheek against Noct’s outstretched hand, going in for the treats.

 

“Thank fucking god,” Noct says quietly under his breath, to absolutely nobody. He’s careful with his movements, slowly shifting the carrier strap off his shoulder. For once, the cat actually looks somewhat pleased to see him. Then again, after apparently scrounging for food for the past week, weathering the cold, apparently even Noctis is an appealing option.

 

Still, he’s very slow, very deliberate and precise as he reaches out. Peanut gives him a reproachful look, but he doesn’t run, and even though he trills and meows in a tone that really does manage to sound indignant, he lets Noctis scoop him up and get him into the carrier.

 

Noct’s heart doesn’t stop pounding until he’s got it secured, until there’s no chance of the cat bolting. He needs to get Peanut to the vet, because those cuts look nasty, but his legs are shaking, and he realizes he can’t quite find the energy to get up. He’s coursing with nerves, with a rush of adrenaline and fear and _suddenly,_ the entire heaviness of the past fucking week hits him like a brick.

 

“You are the _worst,_ you know that?” Noctis says in a rush as he sits heavily on the snowy, cold ground, and the tears freeze before they can properly fall. He must look ridiculous, sitting there, next to the curb, shoulders heaving and the harsh sound escaping his lips somewhere between laughter and ugly sobs. He’s so fucking _relieved,_ and even though realistically, they’re not out of hot water yet, they’ll have to go to the vet and make sure everything is okay, at least they’ll know, one way or another. At least the uncertainty and the fear and everything else is gone.

 

The cat meows in the carrier, and when Noctis finally calms, when he’s finally stopped trembling enough to stand up, he quickly pulls his phone out and googles the vet clinic they’ve been taking Peanut to. It’s already early evening on a Sunday, but the sweet blessings of living in a college neighbourhood is that all the businesses have irregular hours, and the clinic has an emergency walk-in that’s open late.

 

It’s walking distance, but Noctis says fuck it, and he pings his phone for a rideshare over.

 

It’s only when he’s sitting in the waiting room, a few other fuzzy patients with issues deemed more urgent ahead of them, that Nocis finally texts Prompto. His fingers are still numb from the cold. He’s pretty sure he’s grinning ear-to-ear, though, looking quite the fool as he thumbs over the screen.

 

_‘about to be ur fav person. guess who I found?’_

Maybe it’s mean, getting his best friend’s hopes up, but the reply comes almost fucking _instantly._ Prompto’s probably just getting off work. Hell, he’s probably already on the way home, Noctis realizes. He keeps forgetting that it’s already pretty fucking late.

 

_‘noct fuck off don’t tease’_

Noctis shakes his head and he laughs a little, despite it.

 

_‘not teasing. I have peanut. took him 2 the vet, he’s kinda beaten up but looks ok. wanna meet me here?’_

Moments go by, and the response is practically instant again.

 

_‘on my way. Same vet as before?’_

_‘yep’_ Noctis types out. _‘see u soon’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'know why i don't outline? because i have no self control and my chapters take on a life of their own. im sorry for the long ass chapter, but i really, really wanted the next bit to be a very specific upcoming scene and i couldn't decide where to split it and keep the flow i'm going for, so i said fuck it and kept it long.
> 
> can you see that things are slowly wrapping up?!??! ahhh, i love this fic. i love everyone who's still reading. sorry i suck at replying to reviews lately, i got hit with a nasty flu within hours of getting home from vacation. <3 as always, thank you for reading/reviewing/kudoing! final stretch folks!


	31. Elation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a good person,” Noctis says, finally. He doesn’t really know why he says it, but the words come easily. It seems like it’s the right thing to say, at least, and that’s important. “A good friend, too.”
> 
> “Dunno about that,” Prompto replies. He leans forward a little, and flicks the end of the cigarette, tossing it off the rooftop of the building. Noctis watches, silently. “… I’m gonna quit, though. I know I keep saying it, but…” he laughs a little, and it’s a bitter sound, one that has Noct’s heart yearning in a weird way.

When Prompto arrives, he makes a bit of a messy scene.

 

“Oh my god,” he says, and he’s definitely crying, “ _Noct,_ shit, where’d you find him?”

 

Prompto is shameless, and he sits right down on the floor in front of the cat carrier and opens the top of it enough to stick his hand in. The cat is _definitely_ Prompto’s cat, because he’s already purring and nudging his face into Prompto’s fingers.

 

“Park a few blocks by our house,” Noctis says. His head is tipped to the side, and he’s watching Prompto intently. His best friend looks _exhausted._ It’s been a long week for both of them, but it’s hit Prompto especially hard. He normally looks impeccable, makeup and fancy product in his hair. Right now though, his hair’s side-swept, falling over his eyes, and the freckles stand out stark against his pink cheeks. Prompto’s all joy though, completely brimming over with it as he opens the carrier a little more to get a good look at the cat.

 

“His ear’s all messed up,” Prompto says, his eyes clouding over a little and a frown crossing his face, before it’s eased away again. “… guess it could be worse, though, huh?”

 

“Way worse,” Noctis agrees. There’s an urge, a heavy one, to reach down and run his fingers through his best friend’s hair, to pull him into an embrace and comfort him. It has Noctis squirming in the awkward little waiting room chair. He drums his fingers against his thigh instead, and glances down at the phone he’s holding in his other hand.

 

“Thanks, Noct,” Prompto says quietly. “… I didn’t even know you were gonna go looking. I got call from a girl, but I missed it, she left a voicemail saying she’d spotted him… but y’know, I’ve missed so much work already…”

 

Noctis shakes his head. “It’s fine. Prom. We’re best friends, right?”

 

The words escape and Noctis realizes what he’s said, and he shakes his head and can’t hold back a quiet little laugh at the irony of it. Their eyes meet though, and Prompto giggles a little, eyes shining as they share a quiet moment.

 

“Yep,” he replies, “best friends, Noct.”

 

The vet appointment goes okay. The good news is that nothing _seems_ to be fatally wrong. The cat needs stitches, and they want to do x-rays and keep him a couple of days for observation and all those precautionary things. Prompto seems restless and upset that they won’t be bringing the cat home with him, but he’s understanding enough. And really, all things considered, this is one of the best possible outcomes they could’ve hoped for.

 

After saying their goodbyes to the cat, they head back out front.

 

Noctis hands his card over to the receptionist, and Prompto grumbles. “Hey. Noct. _No,_ he’s my cat, let me pay. You did enough, you _found_ him.”

 

“Exactly I found him. Let me,” Noctis shoots back. His dad’s been sending him more money than he really needs, anyway, and it’s not going to be a cheap appointment.

 

“Half,” Prompto says, finally, and there’s a finality to his voice.

 

Noctis relents, with a roll of his eyes. “Fine. Half. Besides, he’s pretty much _our_ cat at this point, huh? Cat parents Noctis and Prompto.”

 

Maybe that’s pushing things, taking it a little bit too far. There’s a moment where Noctis worries that he’s crossed a line, and he can’t quite bring himself to look at Prompto as the receptionist swipes both their cards in turn.

 

“I can agree to that,” Prompto says, though, with another of those bright grins. “After all, I guess I wanted to name him Promptis, didn’t I?”

 

Noctis groans at that particular memory. “Nocto was definitely a better option, there.”

 

“Pretty sure you told me that one was even _worse,_ ” Prompto shoots back, swatting playfully at Noct’s shoulder. It’s all warmth and happiness, though, and somehow, it doesn’t feel so weird anymore. Things really are normal between them again, or so it seems. Maybe they’re both just riding the euphoria of finding the cat, the relief that things are back to _normal,_ that they aren’t left wondering what happened, or burying a dead cat.

 

“You wanna walk home? We can get dinner at that noodle place we like on the way home,” Prompto asks after they tuck away the paperwork they’re given into Prompto’s work bag. It’s a bit of a long walk, longer than Noctis would normally agree to, but it’s been one hell of a day. It’s gotten colder out, but even that doesn’t put a damper on their spirits as they head out into the night.

 

“I’m starving,” Noct agrees. “Was out there all afternoon looking for that cat. Fuck, I should text Gladio, he was helping… he thought it was kinda hopeless.”

 

“Don’t blame him,” Prompto admits, as they begin to walk down the street. “… honestly, Noct, I was kinda losing hope.”

 

Their shoulders brush, and Noctis smiles a little, his emotions somehow hanging in the balance between relief and a strange, deep-seated sadness. “… me too,” he admits, quiet.

 

Their fingers brush, through the gloves Noct’s wearing, and the silly, brightly-coloured knitted mittens Prompto’s got on. Even though the cold is heavy in the air, it’s a little jolt of warmth up Noct’s arm.

 

The noodle shop in question is at right about the halfway mark between the vet clinic and their apartment. It’s a good thing, too, because the euphoria from finding Peanut can only carry them so far, and Noct’s beginning to shiver a little. It’s not a large shop. It’s also not very busy on a Sunday night, about an hour before close. They’re doing renovations in the buildings surrounding the little shop, and they have to duck under some scaffolding to get inside. The door chimes as they open it, and the little front foyer is small. But it’s okay, because the warmth washes over them, making Noct’s fingers tingle and his nose run. He’s pretty sure he looks a total mess.

 

He even drinks some of the bitter hot tea that Prompto orders, though, and it warms him thoroughly. They sit in relative silence as they order, and as their food arrives. It’s not the awkward silence that they’ve been living in, though. It’s… well. It’s different.

 

As teenagers, they’d quickly become friends. In fact, looking back, Noct’s not even really sure how the transition happened. The two of them simply started _talking_ one day, and suddenly they were hanging out after school, and the rest is history. It all had been simple, dumb teenagers being just that, dumb teenagers. It’d all changed, of course, with that chance drunken conversation, when they’d been so hung up on things that, it turns out, really didn’t matter for much of anything.

 

Even before, though, silence had always been something they’d been a little afraid of. Noct’s lived a good deal of his life in silence. It just comes with the territory of being introverted, of preferring to be alone. Prompto, Noctis knows, has a tendency to ramble, to fill the silence with whatever comes to mind, rattling on about silly topics or something happening in the game he’s playing, or an article he read on his phone. Right now though, there’s none of that. Their feet keep bumping under the table, and Noct’s picking at his food, as usual, wincing every time he sips some of the gross-tasting tea, but… it’s all _natural._

 

It kinda feels like something’s sliding into place. Like all the pieces line up for once.

 

Noctis doesn’t understand it, but maybe he doesn’t have to. They keep catching each other’s eyes though, and there’s a light flush spreading across Prompto’s cheeks, one that Noctis can’t stop sneaking glances at.

 

Noctis picks up the cheque, and Prompto looks like he’s going to disagree, but in the end, stubbornness wins out because Noct slips his card to their server before his best friend can get a word in otherwise.

 

The air feels less cold when they head back out. Noctis doesn’t bother wondering if it’s actually gotten warmer, if the cold front is finally passing, or if his belly is just full of carbs and tea. Whatever the case, he’s not shivering instantly.

 

Prompto’s fingers are fidgeting, and he’s reaching into his pocket for a cigarette as they stand outside the shop for a minute. Noctis tips his head back, and he glances up at the scaffolding overhead, on the building next door. It’s a large place, abandoned, in the middle of being renovated, probably converted into new apartments, or more trendy, upscale stores, just another notch of gentrification. The wooden scaffolding connects onto the fire escape, though, and there’s steps that lead all the way up to the rooftop. Further up, in the sky, the moon is shining bright. It’s a cloudless night.

 

“Crazy idea,” he says suddenly, to Prompto, and really, Noctis doesn’t know why the inspiration is striking _now_ of all times, but it seems like a good idea. In reality, it’s a terrible idea, but when you’re young and dumb and probably-maybe hopelessly in love, immortality is a mindset, and stupidity is a way of life. “You wanna climb up?”

 

Prompto blinks. He rolls the end of his cigarette between his fingers, and then tucks it back into his pocket. “Got a suicide wish, Noct? That doesn’t look safe.”

 

“Probably not,” Noctis agrees, with a laugh, “bet it’s nice up there, though. I dunno. After the day we’ve had… not quite sure I’m ready to go home.”

 

There’s a pause, one where Prompto is fixing Noctis with a look that is clearly saying, _you are fucking stupid,_ but… well. They’re best friends for a reason. If one of them isn’t making a dumb suggestion, the other one is, and they always back each other up. Why would this be any different?

 

“Okay,” Prompto agrees with a carefree laugh, “why the fuck not?”

 

It’s not nearly as bad, scaling up the side of the scaffolding, as Noctis thought it would be. They’re both athletic enough, even if Prompto has an inclination toward clumsiness. It’s just a matter of grasping on and making a quick climb, hoisting themselves up onto the narrow wooden planks, then crossing to the metal fire escape. It clangs loudly under their footsteps, but nobody’s around as they climb the flights of stairs that criss-cross up the brick-sided old building.

 

There’s a little platform at the top, that connects to the roof. The roof itself looks treacherous, sloped and covered in old shingles that threaten to come loose and give way. Noctis isn’t _that_ brave. There’s a little ledge though, that runs along the edge, a good five feet wide, and it’s easy to climb over and sit there, back against the slope of the roof. Prompto makes a weary groaning noise, but he follows, and settles down next to Noctis.

 

And it’s worth it, Noctis decides, as he leans back, tips his head up. Overhead, it’s inky black night sky, speckled with bright, vibrant stars. The moon is almost full, and icy overhead, almost bright enough to see by. They aren’t very high, realistically – less than ten floors up – but the rest of the surrounding buildings are low. Looking around, it gives a good view of their part of the city. The college buildings are bigger, but they’re several blocks away. There aren’t many cars out this late, either.

 

For some reason, it makes Noctis think of Tenebrae, of sitting on that bench with Luna, staring off at the mountains, and how much he’d wished Prompto had been there at his side.

 

“Not bad, huh?” he says with a grin, tipping his head to watch Prompto. His friends seems a little nervous, but he’s looking around, wide-eyed, and slowly, Prompto nods.

 

“Not bad, Noct.”

 

Prompto fishes his cigarette out of his pocket again. He hasn’t bothered to put his mittens on yet, and he’s still rolling the end of his between his fingers, pinching at it and frowning.

 

“You’re gonna wreck it, you know,” Noct’s voice is quiet, as he watches. It’s strangely hypnotic, watching his best friend roll a dumb little cancerous piece of paper between his fingers the way he does. Everything feels a little bit surreal, if Noct’s being honest. This whole day, it’s been a _lot._ It’s overwhelming.

 

“Probably for the best,” Prompto replies. He stops his motions though, and tips his head down, bangs falling over his eyes. “… that’s the reason Peanut got out, y’know. Cuz of this stupid habit of mine. If I hadn’t been outside smoking…”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Noctis says, quickly. “It isn’t your fault. Isn’t my fault, either. Shit just… happens.”

 

Prompto makes a quiet noise. He doesn’t speak right away, but when he does, they’re accompanied with a hint of humour. “Funny, Noct. You telling me that it’s nobody’s fault. You’re the one who lives in your head all the time, y’know.”

 

Does he?

 

Noctis frowns. He’s chewing on his lip again, and he leans a little closer, their shoulders bumping. Maybe Prompto’s right. Hell, Prompto _is_ right. Even before all of this shit happened, before they messed up their friendship with sex and with _feelings,_ Noct’s been keeping the world pushed away. Prompto’s the first person to ever truly work their way in, and maybe that’s why this has been so hard. Maybe that’s why he’s managed to fall so fully.

 

“Told my therapist about the cat,” Noctis admits. “She said it isn’t either of our faults.” He shrugs. “… I’m trying to get out of my head, Prom. It’s hard though.”

 

“I know,” Prompto replies. “… I’m trying to be a better person too, Noctis. It’s not easy.”

 

They fall silent again, for a moment.

 

It’s not easy. Noctis can agree with that statement. It’s anything but easy.

 

“You’re a good person,” Noctis says, finally. He doesn’t really know why he says it, but the words come easily. It seems like it’s the right thing to say, at least, and that’s important. “A good friend, too.”

 

“Dunno about that,” Prompto replies. He leans forward a little, and flicks the end of the cigarette, tossing it off the rooftop of the building. Noctis watches, silently. “… I’m gonna quit, though. I know I keep saying it, but…” he laughs a little, and it’s a bitter sound, one that has Noct’s heart yearning in a weird way.

 

“I get it,” Noctis says, quietly. “I mean… not the smoking thing, exactly. But I’ve got a whole bunch of bad habits, Prom. I don’t talk when I’m supposed to, I sleep too much, I avoid things…”

 

Noctis realizes he’s rambling, and he flushes a little, firmly shutting his lips. He lifts a hand, rakes it through his hair. His hair’s getting longer, too, and the wind’s probably mussed it all up in various directions. They both look like quite a fucking pair of idiots, most likely. For some reason, that makes Noctis feel even closer to his best friend.

 

“Well lookit us then, Noct,” Prompto says, and he’s teasing, smiling even, as their shoulders bump again, as they both instinctively lean closer. “I’m not smoking and you’re talking. Think there’s hope for us yet?”

 

“Guess there might be,” Noctis agrees, and he laughs as well. Maybe, just maybe, there is.

 

There’s a shift, a quiet rustle of motion, and Prompto’s fingers carefully brush over Noct’s. The gentle touch almost makes Noctis jump, almost makes him jerk away, but he catches himself. Slowly, carefully, Noctis nudges a little bit closer. Prompto’s thumb swipes over the back of his hand, and Noctis feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest. He doesn’t know whether to lean in or to pull away, and when he tips his head, Prompto’s _looking_ at him, eyes lidded, tongue darting out to lick over lips that are chapped by the cold.

 

“Prom,” Noctis says quietly, and his voice fucking cracks with the effort of it. Really cool. Very smooth. “… I’m worried, y’know. That I’m going to fuck everything up again.” It’s a fear that’s been weighing on Noctis heavily. It’s the thing that’s holding him back, that’s got him petrified, frozen in place, _terrified_ to go where things seem to be very rapidly going.

 

And the goddamn way his best friend is _looking_ at him…

 

“It wasn’t just you,” Prompto’s voice seems just as shaky, and he laughs, self-conscious, though he doesn’t draw away, and he makes no effort to look away. Up here, under the open sky, out in the nighttime air, above the city, it feels like it’s just the two of them. Noctis feels naked, exposed, vulnerable, and he’s not sure, for once, that it’s such a bad thing.

 

“I messed up too, Noct. Yeah… you were shitty. But I didn’t talk, either, did I?” Prompto’s fingers twitch, and Noct’s own hand inches closer, his fingers flexing and splaying and suddenly, their hands are locked, the simple touch both nothing and _everything_ all at once.

 

“You made it obvious, though,” Noct’s head is tipped to the side, and at this angle, they’re _close._ They’re so fucking close, mere inches between them. Their lips are close enough that their breath is mingling in the air, turning it a touch warmer, and when Prompto leans in a little closer, his hair tickles Noct’s cheeks, making him flush and smile.

 

“I _knew,_ Prom,” Noctis adds, before his best friend can say anything. “I was just scared. Terrified. I… didn’t want to be _different,_ y’know? Didn’t want to be…” he trails off, because even now, he doesn’t know exactly what he wants to say, or how he wants to say it.

 

Prompto nods his head just a bit, the slightest tip in his direction. Noctis is distinctly aware that there’s a _look_ in his best friend’s eyes. He’s pretty sure that the emotion is mirrored in his own. They’re like magnets, moths to a flame, drawn to each other, and Noctis doesn’t pull away. He should, maybe, but he doesn’t.

 

“Are you still scared, Noct?” Prompto asks, quiet. His voice is still catching in his throat, and Noctis can feel his best friend’s breath, shallow, rapid, against his cheek. Prompto’s nervous. Noctis is nervous, too, but it’s a _good_ kind of nervous. It’s the thrilling rush that comes right before something you _know_ you’ll enjoy, but you’re terrified to do. Like jumping out of a plane, or off a cliff into an ocean below, or the first exhilarating time Noctis had driven his dad’s car.

 

Noctis takes a deep, shuddering breath. He feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest.

 

“I’m fucking terrified, Prom,” Noctis admits with a quiet laugh. He doesn’t know if the terror is foolishness or bravery. It doesn’t matter though, because they’re close, and it’s a draw he can’t resist.

 

He’s been resisting for quite a while now, and it hurts, holding back.

 

Maybe they’re ready. Noctis doesn’t know. He’s scared. But he goes for it.

 

Noct takes a deep breath. Then he leans in. He closes those tantalizing, impossibly difficult couple of inches between them, and presses his lips against his best friend’s.

 

They’ve kissed before. That much is obvious. That’s what’s gotten them _here._ It’s not bad, like those awkward first ones. It’s not lips smashing together, no bumping noses and clashing teeth. It’s not all _heat_ though, not like before. It’s gentle, slow, a bit of pressure, more than anything. Prompto makes a quiet sound, and tenses, and all Noctis can think is fuck, he was all _wrong_ about this.

 

But Prompto’s relaxing into the touch, head tipping to get a better angle. It’s all _soft,_ lips working against each other with gentle motion. Prompto’s free hand, the one that isn’t twined with his own, slides over the back of Noct’s neck and fingers tangle in the soft curls of hair there, and Noctis sighs at the contact.

 

Noct’s eyes are half lidded as they draw apart, just a little, foreheads pressing together. He’s breathing heavy, and the world around them has melted away. It’s all the little details, the way that this close, he really can make out the patterns in his best friend’s freckles. Prompto’s fingers are still curled around his neck, nails scratching lightly and it’s all shivers working down Noct’s spine. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his own free hand, and so he lifts it, goes on instinct, to run feather-light and gentle over the curve of his best friend’s jaw.

 

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Noct says quietly, with a gentle laugh, breaking the silence. He isn’t looking away though. He isn’t pulling away, either, his fingertips trembling from the cold winter air, from the emotion of it, from the fact that Prompto leans into the touch, just a little bit.

 

“Maybe,” Prompto agrees, and his _tone_ is entirely different from the words he’s saying. It’s… a little tentative, yeah, but it’s hopeful, too. There’s _something,_ a shared look, Prompto’s fingers tightening just a little, the puff of mingling breath against each other’s lips.

 

“I’m glad you did, though,” Prompto adds, and he smiles, just a little. “Cuz I’m scared too, Noct. But… I think it’s okay. To feel this way.”

 

Noctis nods, and he thinks maybe he can get by with that. Being scared, and being okay with it, because it doesn’t change the fact that he wants _this._ He wants his best friend, and he wants to kiss Prompto again. Again, and then again, and hell, he doesn’t want to go back.

 

“I’m sorry, Prom,” Noctis finds himself saying, though, the words falling out before he can stop them, “for before, for being an idiot, for hurting you… maybe _that’s_ why I’m scared, I don’t know if I can do this, or if I’m gonna fuck everything up again…”

 

Prompto doesn’t answer him. Instead, this time, he’s the one to lean in, and he catches Noct’s lips. This time, the kiss is a little more insistent. It’s something closer to what they’d shared before, with a swipe of Prompto’s tongue over Noct’s cold-chapped lips. Noctis parts them, purely on instinct, and he remembers the taste of Prompto _still,_ the lingering hints of cigarette smoke, and something else that’s distinctly Prompto. It’s good, and Noctis realizes he’s clinging a little, that his hand has shifted from Prompto’s jaw, down to wrap around his shoulder, fingers pressing into his back, right between his shoulder blades. It’s warm, and there’s a gentle heat, but it’s nothing urgent, not like before.

 

It's… _intimate._

“Now we’re even,” Prompto breathes out, as they part again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, either. But I did.”

 

Noctis can’t help it. He laughs a little, and the sound is so natural. Everything, it feels _natural._ It’s so different from before. Or maybe it isn’t different. Maybe Noctis is just the one who’s grown, who’s learned to open up his mind, to see things differently. There’s no more obsessing over what this _means._ There’s no denying that it means something, of course but, that’s okay now.

 

“You need to tell me, Prom, if I’m fucking up,” Noctis says quickly, quietly, before he loses his nerve. “And I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

 

Prompto nods, and they draw away a little, but only so that Prompto can tip his head onto Noct’s shoulder. Their thighs brush together, and Prompto throws one leg over Noct’s as they sit in the darkness for a little longer.

 

“I’m gonna be a nightmare, you know,” Prompto says, a little later, finally breaking the silence that’s fallen over them. It’s a comfortable silence, of course, one where Noctis has his head resting gently against his friend’s, eyes turned up torwards the sky, staring at the constellations twinkling overhead. Prompto’s voice is low, the sound vibrating up into Noct, reminding them just how close they are right now.

 

“What do you mean?” Noctis asks, slowly. Their fingers aren’t twined anymore, but Prompto’s hand is still resting atop Noct’s. It’s a million tiny little points of contact, none of them sexual, all of it affectionate, such a stark contrast from before.

 

“The smoking thing,” Prompto’s voice is still quiet. “I’ve tried to quit before. Remember last spring…?”

 

Noctis goes silent for a moment, and looking back – yeah, he does remember. Prompto had been an irritable mess for a week or two. He’d eaten every single thing in existence, gained a few pounds (or so he said – Noctis hadn’t noticed an ounce of difference) and then had a meltdown about the extra weight. It’d been close to their final exams of senior year, though, so Noctis had assumed it was more the stress from that than anything else.

 

“Well,” Noctis says, finally, “you’ve got my support now, Prom. You’ve only been dealing with my nightmare problems for months now.”

 

Prompto nods, slowly. “… guess we’re both a little broken, huh?”

 

Noctis thinks that maybe Prompto’s right. He also thinks that it’s not what defines them.

 

“Maybe,” Noctis agrees, “but it feels like we’re learning how to fix it, doesn’t it?”

 

The wind sweeps in, and it’s a rush of cold, a shiver working harsh down Noct’s spine and making his chest ache and his bones creak, all those old wounds suddenly remembering they exist. Prompto lifts away, seems to pick up on Noct’s sudden discomfort, and he smiles, a little ruefully. “… you’re right, Noct. We’re gonna get through it. Should probably get home though, before we freeze to death.”

 

Noctis nods. Drawing away from Prompto takes more effort than he’d anticipated. But soon, they’re climbing back down the fire escape, scaling the last feet down to the sidewalk. Prompto reaches for Noct’s hand, and they cling to each other as they walk home. Somehow, that touch is warming, enough that Noctis doesn’t need to think about anything else.

 

It’s funny, too, how quickly things fall back into _normal._ They don’t talk about the kiss – this time, though, it’s not because they’re avoiding it. It’s just… a _thing,_ and it doesn’t require any explanation. They head up the back steps into the apartment, as usual, and Noctis is quick to peel out of his cold clothes and get changed into sweats and an old t-shirt. Prompto follows suit, and they end up on the couch, a movie playing in the background, a blanket thrown over their laps.

 

When Prompto’s hands start to get fidgety, the first little withdrawals of nicotine starting to kick in, Noctis grabs firmly, and drags Prompto’s hand to settle on his hip, on the bare skin above his low-hanging pants. There’s a little rush of warmth, the slightest tremor wracking through both of them, in turn, but Prompto simply squeezes, rubs his thumb over the jut of Noct’s hipbone.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto says slowly, as they curl together, pressed close, the slide of his thumb a slow back-and-forth that’s both driving Noctis insane, and comforting him, two distinct feelings clashing. “… can we… take this slow, this time?”

 

Noctis tips his head, and catches Prompto’s eye. “The sex was that bad, huh?”

 

Noct’s pretty sure that’s the first time they’ve ever _openly_ talked about this. The fact that yeah, they’ve been having sex together, in actual, explicit terms. And even though it’s in a joking sense, it seems like it’s important to make that distinction. To make an effort to get talking about the hard things. They can’t fuck this up again, after all.

 

Prompto freezes, just for a moment, like he’s coming to the same realization.

 

“I mean,” Prompto says, his lips curling up into a smile, “you were kinda lazy. Made me do all the work.”

 

Prompto laughs though, and the sound is infectious, has Noctis joining in, the two of them pressed close, that hand on his hip, Noct’s own hand shifting to squeeze his best friend’s thigh, and they’re toeing a line again, something that’s just on the right side of affectionate, with just a smattering of hormones and fire mixed in there.

 

“… slow,” Noctis agrees, though, as their laughter slows, as they fall silent again, breath a little quickened. “Guess we should like, go on real dates, too. Is that how this works?”

 

“Honestly,” Prompto shakes his head, “I dunno how this works, Noct. Just… let’s do it differently, this time.”

 

Noctis nods slowly. Differently. He thinks they’re already succeeding there. And even though he’s terrified, even though he’s pretty sure that this could all go horribly wrong in a million different ways, it feels good.

 

“I kinda want to kiss you again,” Noctis admits, drawing back a little, to get a look at Prompto, a proper one, and he feels the colour rising to his cheeks. This time, he can’t blame it on the cold air outside, and it’s hard not to duck his head down, to avoid the look Prompto’s giving him. He doesn’t really want to, either, because it’s a _good_ look.

 

“Then kiss me,” Prompto says, lips curling up into the most appealing little half-smile. He’s flushing too, bright red over equally bright smatters of freckles, and Noctis doesn’t quite feel so self-conscious. So he leans in, and he does, and it’s still tentative, a little swipe of tongue and a bit more pressure, heads tilting to find the right angle.

 

But they’ve found their cat, and he’ll be home in a day or two, warm and safe with them. More than finding the cat, they’ve started to find their way back to each other. And Noctis has started to figure things out. He’s damn well aware this doesn’t fix _anything,_ not really, but it’s another step forward.

  
There’s a bit of elation later, when Noctis gets to write down his thoughts. He’s lying in his bed, his little journal propped up against the pillow. Prompto’s in his own room, in his own bed, and that’s probably for the _best,_ because Noctis doesn’t want to fall into that particular trap again.

 

He gathers his thoughts for a while.

 

Noctis went and found the cat, even though he hadn’t wanted to move out of bed. It’s a nice feeling, knowing that the whole ‘doing one difficult thing a day’ thing – that had paid off. It’s everything.

 

And it’s even better, writing down his thought of the day.

 

_‘Today, I kissed Prompto. He didn’t push me away, and he kissed me back.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is possibly the most satisfying chapter i have ever written in my entire life lmao. what else, really, can i say? LOL.


	32. We'll Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re both idiots, Noct,” Prompto says, quietly. “… but at least we’re idiots together.”

Monday’s one hell of a day. Talk about a whole lot of highs and a whole lot of lows, all thrown together.

 

Noctis should’ve seen it coming, of course. He wakes up, and the memory _hits,_ that holy shit, this happened, and he and Prompto are… definitely _something_ now. Should they have talked about it? It hadn’t seemed like they needed to talk about it. But they’d kissed, and Noct definitely wakes up to the sound of his alarm sporting one hell of an erection. It’s a weird flip-flopping in his belly, because he doesn’t feel _guilty,_ necessarily, but he knows that they’ve gotta be careful here. And somehow, jerking it to the memory of that simple kiss, of his best friend’s lips, makes Noctis feel… conflicted. Weird.

 

Then, he remembers that they’ve got exams starting, and all thoughts of getting off fade away as fast as his erection. Probably for the best.

 

Prompto’s a nervous wreck, when Noctis drags his ass into the kitchen. He’s got his textbooks open on the table, but he’s half-pacing, barely getting seated down before he’s jumping up again, a whole mess of nervous energy. Somehow, the fact that Prompto’s holding it together _less_ than he is, it helps keep Noctis from descending into his own pit of nerves and anxiety.

 

“Noct,” Prompto says, when their eyes meet, “fuck, dude, I’m gonna fail this exam.”

 

Noctis grumbles sleepily. He’d pulled on some clothes, but he hadn’t bothered with a shower, or with brushing his hair. He looks a mess, and he feels a bit of one, too. “You studied more than I did. You’ll be fine.”

 

“You don’t understand,” Prompto whines, hands over his face, “Noct, I don’t _do_ exams well. You know how I get. And with Peanut, and everything… what the hell do I do if I flunk out of college?”

 

Noctis rummages through the fridge and comes out with an energy drink. Prompto gives him a _look,_ and Noct ignores it, popping the top of the can. “Pretty sure they put you on probation before they kick you out,” he says, and Prompto gives him _another_ look, this time far more frantic, borderline panicky.

 

“Noctis. Seriously.”

 

Noct sighs, looking through the kitchen cupboards now, and coming out with some poptarts. Score.

 

“Prom,” Noct offers, shoving one of the pastries in his mouth. He… well, Noct doesn’t really know what kind of advice to actually give. His dad had been much better with that. He knows that Prompto’s a lot smarter than he looks. He knows, though, that Prompto’s also got weird issues with his self-confidence, ones that flare up at the _weirdest_ times. Noct knows, too, that sometimes Prompto doesn’t have the best coping mechanisms. Neither of them do.

 

Prompto simply gives Noctis another one of those _looks,_ one that makes Noct’s stomach do weird little flutters.

 

“Hey, it’ll be over soon,” Noctis says, breaking the silence. “… and uh. I’m here. If you wanna talk or…” he shrugs, “y’know. Stuff.”

 

As dumb as Noct’s words are, they do something at least, because Prompto laughs a little, and offers up a tiny smile. It’s got Noct’s heart thumping again, damnit, because his best friend always manages to take his breath away. Even when Prompto’s full of restless energy, when he’s all nerves and wild eyes. Noct’s in trouble, and he knows it, and maybe he isn’t really in that much trouble after all. Hard to say.

 

“ _Stuff,_ Noct,” Prompto teases, but he sounds a little better, a little calmer, enough that he sits down for real again, tugging his textbook closer and glancing down at whatever page he’s on. “Real eloquent.”

 

“I try,” Noctis laughs, too. He pulls up his chair next to Prompto’s, and side-glances at the section he’s reading. It’s one of the exams they share. Noctis doesn’t exactly understand why exam schedules have to be so _weird._ This particular one is scheduled for late afternoon. The rest are all over the place, one in early morning (because the world hates him), and then two that are almost back-to-back, one in the early afternoon and the other in the evening. And then one of his classes doesn’t even _have_ a formal final, rather a long-ass take home exam that he hasn’t started yet, and is pretty sure is going to take him an entire day of work.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto says, after a silence, one where he’s trying to study, and Noct’s slowly nibbling on his second pastry, slowly finishing it off, crumbs landing all over the table. “… I’m gonna be a wreck this week, Noct. You don’t deserve that.”

 

“I’m always a wreck,” Noctis points out, immediately. “I can deal.”

 

Prompto smiles again, another tiny, unsure one, and there’s an instinct screaming at Noct. They’ve taken a huge step forward, but Noct’s still living in this strange, awkward place where everything suddenly has _so much meaning_ behind it. They’re best friends again, yeah – maybe they never stopped being best friends – but they _kissed,_ and they’re more than that now.

 

“You think _you’re_ a wreck? Noct, I want a cigarette so fuckin’ bad,” Prompto says, with a sigh. “I don’t even smoke _that_ much, but now that I can’t, it’s all I can think about.”

 

Noctis, of course, had absolutely _forgotten_ about that. Somehow, that little detail had gotten lost, amidst the relief of finding Peanut, the _elation_ of kissing Prompto. When he thinks about that night, he just remembers the sky overhead, Prompto’s breath hot against his, their lips pressing, all awkward young hormones rushing, combining with emotions, until it swept them both away. Bits and pieces melted away, but _right,_ Prompto’s made that particular vow.

 

“Only been bugging you to quit for _ages,_ Prom,” Noctis points out, with a little smile. ”… I dunno though, during exams, is that the best idea? If you’re already stressed out.”

 

Noctis tips his head, watching as his best friend shrugs, eyes ducking down as if he’s suddenly self-conscious. “There’s never gonna be a good time, Noct. After exams, we’re gonna go away with your dad, right? So I wouldn’t be able to then, and then it’ll be a new semester and everything’s stressful then. I think I just gotta suck it up and do it.”

 

And, of course, Prompto has a point. He always has a point. There’s a hundred things Noctis could say in response to those words. All these thoughts rush through his mind, all at once, about how goddamn _insightful_ his best friend is. It’s a funny little reminder that even if Prompto’s insecure sometimes, even if he’s so concerned about everything, he’s a damn good person. Noctis should say, maybe, that he’s really goddamn lucky to have Prompto as his best friend, as… whatever they are.

 

Noct’s not there yet. He’s trying, but the words don’t quite come out.

 

Instead, he reaches a hand across the table, and curls his fingers around Prompto’s, and gives a little, reassuring squeeze.

 

“Whatever you wanna do, Prom, I… I’ve got your back, okay?” Noctis says, cheeks flushing a little, dipping his head down, messy bangs falling over his eyes.

 

Prompto doesn’t say anything right away, but he squeezes back, their fingers twined, the touch affectionate and gentle and reassuring, speaking all the words that neither of them are quite ready to say.

 

“Thanks, Noct,” Prompto replies, slowly, “I needed to hear that. It’s… gonna be a rough week.”

 

That’s probably an understatement, Noctis thinks, but they’ll get through it, together. And somehow, the thought that it’s not all so easy for Prompto either, that makes him feel just a little bit better about his own confusion, about that spiral of depression that’s still lurking, ever-present, ready to sink in and claw him down without any notice at all.

 

“It’ll be better, once Peanut is home,” Noctis points out. “And exams will be over soon. We’re gonna be okay.”

 

For once, it’s Noctis saying it, and for once, he _really_ believes it.

 

\---

 

It always gets better before it gets worse. Things seem to be in a constant cycle, one with highs and lows, gentle lulls in between. Noct’s almost starting to expect it, at this point. Whoever told him that he’d grow up and life would get easy, they were a damn liar. Maybe nobody _ever_ told him that, and he’d simply assumed it.

 

They cram until it’s time to go to their first exam, and Prompto’s increasingly agitated, jumping nervously and there’s a moment that’s damn close to a fucking breakdown. Noctis feels like he should be doing more, but hell, he doesn’t know what to say, so he simply _stays._ The vet’s office calls and tells them they can get Peanut tomorrow, and that’s reassuring, at least, leaving Prompto smiling a little as they make their way to campus, to the class they’re scheduled to write their exam in.

 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Noctis mumbles, as they wait outside the door to be let in. Prompto’s fidgeting, fingers trembling as he tugs at the cuff of his sweater. Honestly, Noct’s not faring a whole lot better. He tests well, he knows that – despite being _dumb_ in so many ways, Noct’s actually academically intelligent, somehow – but Prompto’s nerves are catching on, and really, the whole campus has that intense energy about it. It’s way too many people with one foot into adulthood, high on energy drinks and coffee and probably too many drugs, crammed into a small space, after all.

 

“Noct, I’m gonna die,” Prompto says, in a voice that’s a bit quivery.

 

The door opens, and there’s an assistant professor giving off the usual instructions – bags at the front of the room, student ID on your desk, no phones allowed, seating’s preassigned, alphabetically, blah blah – as students start to filter in.

 

Prompto looks at Noctis, and he looks like he might pass out. His face is pale, and the freckles stand out proud. There’s a _look_ in Prompto’s eyes, one that’s full on fear, and it makes Noct’s stomach jump into his throat. Fuck, he’s realizing, he’s _crazy_ about Prompto. He wants to make all this better, to smooth it over. Noct’s damn well aware that he can’t, just like how Prompto can’t chase away his own insecurities, or that strange depression that keeps kicking in again at the weirdest moments.

 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Noct says. They have to go into the classroom, but he pauses, just for a moment. Their eyes meet, Prompto’s nervous gaze jumping around, and Noctis feels oddly intent, _focused,_ on this particular moment, on the way his best friend’s lip is twitching, fingers grasping nervously for something, anything.

 

Noctis leans in, quickly, before he can lose his nerve. And he doesn’t care that there’s an instructor _right there,_ or that there’s still a good few students around, slowly making their way into the classroom, or just trying to delay the inevitable for a few more minutes. For once, Noct really, _truly,_ doesn’t care, because he rests a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, closes the distance between them, and presses their lips together for a quick kiss.

 

“For luck,” he says, with a quiet little laugh and a voice that’s dark with a determination Noct didn’t even know he had. Prompto’s cheeks are red, and his eyes are bright with emotion, and then he manages a shaky little smile.

 

“For luck. Noct, I can’t even believe you.”

 

Noctis can’t either, honestly.

 

\---

 

“Okay,” Prompto’s saying, for the third time, as they make their way back into the apartment after their exam, “question four. What did you get?”

 

Noctis frowns. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, because it’s cold out, and he’s grateful that the back door doesn’t stick when they try to get it open. “Prom. I’m pretty sure it was randomized questions. And I have _no_ idea.”

 

Prompto makes a mournful sound, and he’s quick to dump his backpack down on the table, coat tossed over the back of a chair. “Noctis, that went _horribly.”_

 

Noctis kicks his boots off and dumps his own stuff on the table as well. Exam season, he’s pretty sure, is the best excuse for being a couple of lazy-ass slobs. Not that Noctis necessarily _needs_ a reason for that, but at least now he doesn’t quite feel so guilty about leaving their place a disaster zone. Neither of them bother to clean up the table, after all, as Prompto shuffles into the living room to collapse on the couch, and Noctis follows.

 

“You studied really hard,” Noctis points out. He doesn’t really know what to say. He settles down onto the couch, and Prompto shifts, immediately, to lean in closer. Noct’s never been good at saying the things that matter, when it’s important. They’ve been best friends for years, yeah, but high school? That was mostly just them joking around about how stupid school was, procrastinating with video games and comics, and nothing really seemed to _matter._ Final exams that are worth half their grades, and seem, in this very moment, to be the foundation of their entire fucking futures? Yeah. This is something different. Just another monumental part of adulthood.

 

“I just kinda… blanked, the second I got in there,” Prompto admits. He shifts closer, and his head settles on Noct’s shoulder. It feels good. Better than good. It feels perfect. “I did my best but… what if it’s not good enough?”

 

“It’s good enough for me,” Noctis replies, quickly, and his cheeks flush with how stupid the words sound. Prompto laughs though, a quiet sound, and knocks their shoulders together. This time, it’s Prompto who reaches for his hand, fingers twining together, giving a gentle squeeze.

 

“Thanks, Noct. You’re the best,” Prompto says, and Noct’s heart feels like it’s going to explode. His mind is racing, responses varying from _by the way I love you,_ to _yeah, I totally am._ Instead, he doesn’t say anything, just offers another little squeeze, fingers curling tighter together.

 

“Fuck, I want a cigarette,” Prompto admits, and they laugh, and stay like that for a while.

 

The rest of the night flies by. Noctis orders pizza – because why the hell not? – and they end up in Noct’s room, books strewn across the bed, the half-eaten box of pizza on the floor. Prompto’s gotten increasingly irritable as the night goes on, and Noctis is thinking _holy shit,_ because this is only what, the first fucking day?

 

(He low-key googles ‘nicotine withdrawals’ and realizes he’s got a _long_ way to go here. Fuck.)

 

“Noct,” Prompto mumbles, for the hundredth time, as he goes for another piece of pizza, even if it’s a cold, greasy mess at this point, “I can’t concentrate. I’m so _tired._ ”

 

“Go to bed then,” Noctis sighs. His head hurts, too. His brain hurts even more. He’s been texting back and forth with Ignis and Gladio all evening, and Ignis is just _full_ of studying tips. He’d been quick to point out that at this point, they’re probably in overkill mode, and they should probably just try to relax and take a break. Noct had pointed that out, and well, Prompto had absolutely chewed him out for _daring_ to suggest that. Noctis knows it’s the nerves, combined with the whole ‘quitting smoking at the worst fucking time’ thing, so they’re still here, staring blankly at notes. Neither of them are going to retain anything.

 

“I can’t go to bed,” Prompto groans. He takes a bite of the pizza, chews it thoughtfully, and then sets it aside, just as quickly as he’d picked it up. “I’m not even _hungry,_ either. Noctis, this is the worst.”

 

Noctis wants to point out that it’s been literally a day, but he thinks better. He sighs, and pushes his book aside, and has a _thought._ It’s a dumb thought, but all of Noct’s dumb thoughts lately have seemed to work out really well for him, impossibly. He’s a total mess, if he’s being honest. There’s this constantly juggling thought in his mind that he’s not good support for his best friend at all, even though Prompto’s been by his side through all of this.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, instead of voicing that nagging concern. He scoots to the edge of the bed, swings his legs off the edge, and wanders over to the closet, dodging the pizza box and some stray textbooks and a bunch of old clothes that are strewn across his messy floor.

 

Maybe it’s a stupid idea. Scratch that. It’s _definitely_ a stupid idea. Embarrassing as hell, too. But Noctis digs through his closet, until he finds what he’s looking for. His cheeks flush, and he realizes how pathetic he’s about to admit that he is, but he returns to the bed, the prized possession he was searching for in hand.

 

“So, uh,” Noct’s flushing a little, not quite meeting Prompto’s gaze. “… this has kinda always helped me. I know it doesn’t really help you, but I’ve always been really shitty about knowing what to say, so…”

 

 _“Noct,_ ” Prompto says, in a strange voice, as he reaches out and takes the dog plush, a relic of years long passed, of that strange time when they were just a couple of lonely kids, when they desperately wanted _something_ from each other, companionship, friendship, a whole lot of things that neither of them thought they deserved. Those years are long passed, but have they really changed all that much?

 

“I know, I’m an idiot,” Noctis admits, with a laugh, lifting a hand to the back of his head and mussing at his hair.

 

“Kept it all these years, huh?” Prompto says, but he’s glancing down at the toy sitting in his lap, and he draws it up to his chest, arms curling around it. “… Noct. You’re a really good friend, y’know that?”

 

The words rock Noctis to the core. He’s still not so sure about that. He thinks there’s more he could be doing, and he’s fighting off the panic, just barely. Objectively, he thinks he did okay on that exam. It doesn’t mean he isn’t second guessing himself constantly though. Part of him wants to tell Prompto to just _go smoke the damn cigarette,_ and he wants to crawl into bed and forget the world. Noctis isn’t doing any of that though.

 

“Watch a movie with me,” Noctis says, instead, reaching to shut the book. Prompto looks conflicted, and for a moment, Noct thinks he’s really going to fight him about it, but instead, he slowly nods.

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

Prompto falls asleep, eventually, curled up on Noct’s chest, fingers gripping tight into his shirt, flexing nervously. He sleeps like a fitful mess, and it wakes Noct up more than once – even though he sleeps like a rock – but he simply lies there, stroking through his best friend’s hair. They’ll get through this.

 

\---

 

It just so happens that Prompto has an exam when the vet calls to tell them that they can come pick up Peanut. Gladio, bless his heart, agrees to drive Noctis to get the cat, and he’s still kinda incredulous that he’d actually managed to find him in the first place.

 

Noctis has a feeling Prompto’s gonna argue about the cost, when he pays the bill in full. It’s definitely not cheap, even though apart from a torn ear that had needed stitches, there’s nothing wrong that some solid meals can’t fix.

 

Peanut meows anxiously the whole ride home, the carrier sitting on Noct’s lap.

 

“That cat is _really_ annoying,” Gladio points out, as they make the drive in relative silence. “Bet Prompto’s gonna be happy to see him, though, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, with a little smile. If yesterday was bad, today’s even worse. Prompto had woken up early and gone for a run, even though it’s cold and icy out. The stress eating’s gotten worse, and they had a dumb argument about being low on milk even though Prompto doesn’t even normally _eat_ cereal, and he’s more of a fan of that dumb almond milk crap anyway. It’d ended with Prompto retreating to his room and Noctis crawling into bed and fighting off a stupid panic attack before, ten minutes later, Prompto was knocking on his door and apologizing and _‘I’m just in a really shitty mood, Noct,sorry—‘_

“He quit smoking,” Noctis says, abruptly, and he doesn’t know why he’s telling Gladio that. They’re almost at the apartment now, and Peanut is whining up a storm, even though Noct’s unzipped the top of the carrier to stick his hand in, the cat bumping up against his fingers.

 

“Did he?” Gladio casts a side-glance in Noct’s direction, and he looks somewhat surprised. “Right before exams? Good for him, but… that’s gotta be stressful.”

 

“I don’t really know how to deal with it,” Noctis admits, with a quiet laugh. “… we kinda. I dunno. I think we’re dating now.”

 

“Yeah?” Gladio seems _less_ surprised about that, go fucking figure. “Was wondering when you two would work things out.”

 

Noctis groans. Peanut meows again, loud and mournful, as if being in this tiny box in a car is _the_ worst thing in fucking existence. Noctis wishes he could remind the cat that he’d just spent an entire week out in the snow, but Peanut is a cat and absolutely won’t understand.

 

“Are we that obvious?” Noctis asks, and he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to that.

 

“Yep,” Gladio agrees, somewhat cheerfully, as he pulls into an empty spot along the curb by Noct’s apartment. “It’s been obvious for a long time, Noct.”

 

“Awesome,” Noctis says, somewhat sarcastically, “fuck, Gladio. Could we have had this conversation like, three months ago? Would’ve saved me a lot of stress.”

 

Gladio puts the car into park, and turns in his seat to give Noctis a _look,_ one that Noct absolutely recognizes as the big brother, harsh truth kind of look. “Would you have listened to any of us, if we’d told you? Some things take time and experience to figure out.”

 

Noctis chews on his lip, and Peanut meows again, another reminder that the cat is sick and tired of being stuck here, though at least it’s not as pathetic sounding, now that the car’s stopped moving. “I guess you’re right,” he agrees. Gladio has a point. It’s been hell to get here, but… well, would he really have listened, if anyone had tried to tell him what was right in front of him all along? Probably not.

 

“Just be there,” Gladio adds, suddenly, Noct’s hand hovering over the door handle. “… the smoking thing Just be there for him. I know you Noctis, you pull away from people when things get hard. You’re so caught up about ruining things that you don’t realize you’re sabotaging yourself.”

 

Noctis flushes a little, and he nods, slowly. _Just be there._ Okay. He can do that.

 

Prompto’s mood goes from irritable to ridiculously happy instantly, when he comes home from his exam later. Peanut meows loudly, galloping down the hall from his place sleeping on Prompto’s bed to the doorway to greet his human, and Noct’s a bit in awe about just how fucking loud a supposedly graceful creature can be.

 

“I _missed_ you so much, little guy,” Prompto says, dropping his bag and his coat and sitting himself right down on the middle of the kitchen floor. Peanut crawls up into his lap and balances there, front paws on Prompto’s chest as he stretches himself out, nudging into Prompto’s cheek, purring up a storm. Noctis leans in the doorway and watches, a little smile on his face. Yeah, it’d been worth it. All of that searching and panic and stress? Worth it, for this fucking moment.

 

“He’s been sleeping in your bed all afternoon,” Noctis says. Prompto laughs a little, and he looks up at Noctis as he draws himself up to his feet, Peanut in his arms, tolerating being held for once.

 

“I wonder what he was up to while he was gone,” Prompto says, looking down at the cat. Really, Peanut doesn’t look all _that_ bad. They’d apparently given him a bath at the vet office, because his fur is glossy and soft. He’s definitely lost a few pounds, and the one battered ear is rough around the edges, sewed together where it’d been torn. The vet had warned them about watching to see if he was clawing at it, something about needing a cone of shame, but so far, Peanut’s been behaving.

 

“Picking fights, by the look of it,” Noctis points out, and Prompto laughs.

 

“Definitely my cat, huh? Maybe someone tried to mug him.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but he’s glad that Prompto’s spirits are a little better, at least for now. Later, Prompto’s back to pacing around the apartment, fretting about his remaining exams, having a miniature meltdown to Noctis because _why aren’t our grades posted yet?!_ Noctis tries to remind his best friend that they’ve already been reminded, several times, that it’s school policy not to post any grades until after the entire exam period is over, but Prompto just snaps out a snarky response about _‘I know that Noctis, but it’s a dumb policy.’_

 

\---

 

The following morning, Noctis is up _way_ too fucking early for that godawful early exam they have. His alarm blares, and he stumbles out of bed. For some reason, it’s hitting him like a fucking brick today, and there’s a long moment when he stumbles into the shower, turning the heat up as high as it’ll go, leaning heavily against the wall of the shower, where Noctis seriously considers just going back to bed.

 

“What the fuck am I even doing?” he says aloud, to nobody in particular, and he’s glad that the water is rushing around him, because if Prompto heard him, it’d be embarrassing. “This is stupid. I don’t wanna do this.” Noctis just wants to go back to _bed,_ he’s so tired, and he’s exhausted. He’s not a good friend. He’s struggling through these stupid exams. The holidays are gonna be on them soon, and he’s excited about Tenebrae with his dad and Prompto, but he’s nervous as all hell too.

 

It’s been obvious, what’s going on with him and Prompto – Gladio had said that, right? Noctis wonders if his dad has known all along. Somehow, even though Gladio had been trying to reassure, the words are hitting Noctis now, belatedly, and there’s this ridiculous feeling of embarrassment going hand-in-hand. He wants to melt into nothing. Fuck.

 

“Writing an exam is a hard thing,” Noctis says aloud, again, and he feels silly, talking to absolutely nobody, but somehow, it helps. He’s still following that stupid advice, and yeah, it’s dumb, but it’s got him pushing forward, slowly but surely. It gets him through the shower, at least, and he towels off and gets dressed as fast as he can. Hopefully they’ll have a few minutes to do some last-minute cramming before they have to head to school.

 

When Noctis emerges from the bathroom, a towel around his neck, hair damp and messy, sticking out in every angle, Prompto’s sitting at the kitchen table. He’s fidgeting with the coffee mug his hands are clasped around. Peanut’s sitting in his lap, because he and the cat have been absolutely inseparable since he got home yesterday.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, heading to the cupboard and getting an empty bowl. He pours himself some cereal (fruity pebbles) and settles down at the table, next to Prompto.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says, quietly, and he sounds _upset,_ in a different kind of way than the usual irritableness. Noctis frowns.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

Prompto sighs, heavily, and he takes a sip of his coffee, fidgeting in his chair. Noctis low-key examines his best friend, while he shoves a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Prompto’s frowning, and there’s a strange look in his eyes. Disappointment, maybe? Noct isn’t sure.

 

“I caved,” Prompto confesses, after a minute. “… I thought, y’know, I made it two days. And this exam shit, it’s got me all messed up, Noct. I woke up with a headache again, and I’m worried about failing, and I thought just _one_ smoke wouldn’t kill me, and now I hate myself.” He laughs a little, bitterly, and puts the mug down on the table with a heavy clink, drawing a hand up over his face. “… I’m embarrassed, just admitting it.”

 

Noctis frowns, and he chews on his lip. He’s torn. He doesn’t really know what Prompto wants him to say. Should he say anything at all? He could easily retreat, after all. Or he could brush it off, or…

 

“Hey,” Noctis finds himself saying, because if he keeps _thinking,_ they’ll just fall into weird, awkward silence. “It’s okay. How many times have I messed up something? Still beating you there.”

 

Prompto manages a little smile, slow and tentative, but there nonetheless. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

 

Noctis shrugs. “I’m not going anywhere, Prom. If you wanna try again, try again. If not, whatever.”

 

It’s not a very eloquent response, but it’s sincere enough. It has Prompto leaning in, and nudging their cheeks together, and Noct can smell the smoke on Prompto’s breath still. It’s a bit of a harsh scent, realistically, but Noctis realizes he’s come to associate it with his best friend. Honestly, if it helps Prompto calm down, if it eases some of the stress away… well, they’ll figure it out. Because Noctis means what he says. Gladio had told him to simply be here, and to be supportive, and that’s exactly what Noct’s gonna do.

 

“We’re both idiots, Noct,” Prompto says, quietly. “… but at least we’re idiots together.”

 

\---

 

Somehow, impossibly, they survive the rest of the week. Because of exams, Noctis doesn't have his usual counselling session. He's kinda upset, because he thinks, maybe, he needs to talk about what's going on with Prompto. At the same time, though, he's so stressed, so worn thin and exhausted from the tests and from being Prompto's support - for once - that he doesn't think he has the emotional capacity to talk Despite that, he survives. Noctis even manages to finish his dumb take-home exam, though he absolutely procrastinates on it horribly, and finishes it an hour before the deadline to submit it online. He’s also lucky that the school dropbox server isn’t down, because that’s normally what happens when one waits until the absolute last minute to submit something. Either way, Noct does it on the final day of exam periods, after he’s written all his other ones, and there’s an exhilarating rush of relief when he hits the ‘submit’ button on his computer.

 

“It’s over,” he says, with a sigh, to Prompto, who’s on his bed, playing a game on his phone. “We survived.”

 

“Haven’t survived _yet,”_ Prompto points out, “gotta actually pass things, first.”

 

That particular detail is one that Noctis is trying to ignore. He’s fairly confident that he at least passed everything, even if his grades aren’t the best. The downside to college, of course, is that final exams are worth so goddamn much of his grade that it’s a bit of a make-or-break situation. Noctis knows Prompto’s way more nervous than he is, though, so he doesn’t say anything. Especially since Prompto’s back on day two of quitting, after his initial slipup, and he’s back to being an irritated mess. Noctis is pretty sure he’s figured out how to deal with it, at least. Ignis had suggested filling the apartment with snacks, too, and Noct feels a little bad for taking the advice, but it seems to be helping a little bit.

 

“You better not start refreshing at midnight,” Noctis says with a laugh, as he shuts his computer off, pushing his computer chair back and standing up. His back is aching especially bad today – probably because it’s bitterly cold out – and he’s been sitting for way too long. Noctis groans a little as he stretches his arms over his head, his back popping and his shoulders aching.

 

“Of course I’m gonna start refreshing at midnight, Noct,” Prompto points out. “It’s only the rest of my life at stake here.” Noctis rolls his eyes, and wanders over to the bed, flopping down heavily next to Prompto. They’re both lying on their stomachs, close enough that their shoulders bump.

 

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Noctis nudges into Prompto’s side. Peanut’s curled up at Prompto’s other side, but he lifts his head, stares at Noctis with eerie, glowing eyes, before jumping off the bed and skulking off, tail held high, as though Noct has done some great disservice by disturbing his sleep.

 

“Probably a little,” Prompto agrees, after a moment. He slowly rolls onto his side, propping his head up with an elbow, looking Noctis over. Noct feels a rush of heat slowly spreading, centered in his belly, and it makes his heart pound a little faster against his chest. They’re close, and in his bed, and it’s dark, and _fuck,_ they said they were taking this slow, didn’t they?

 

“We’ll check in the morning,” Noctis says, and he hopes his voice is steadier than he thinks it is. “No use worrying about it. Iggy said the website always crashes from everyone trying to check their grades anyway.”

 

Prompto makes a quiet sound, and their eyes meet, and Noct definitely can see the faint flush blooming over his best friend’s cheeks. They keep edging that line between friendship and _something else,_ and even though it’s not such a mess anymore, not such a daunting thing, Noct’s still a little bit terrified of fucking things up.

 

“I’ve got a headache,” Prompto interrupts the silence they keep falling into, and it’s probably a good thing. It keeps them both from getting lost in their minds. Or, more likely, from getting lost in each other. The faint light from the street lamps outside is shining in through the crack in Noct’s curtains. It feels like snow’s in the air, but it hasn’t started to fall yet. It’s catching in his best friend’s hair though, and Noct, as always, he’s so drawn to those freckles, to the faint flush of Prompto’s cheeks. His wide-necked t-shirt is falling loose over one shoulder, exposing a delicious curve of skin that’s driving Noctis crazy.

 

“Withdrawal again?” Noctis says, if only to distract himself from the hormones that are starting to rush a little.

 

“Obviously,” Prompto grumbles, then catches himself, and sighs. “… sorry. That was snarky.”

 

“Yep,” Noctis agrees, but he’s gotten used to it, by now. Prompto’s his best friend, and they’ve dealt with worse, after all. “It’s fine. You can be a jerk all you want. Payback’s a bitch.”

 

Prompto laughs a little, and for once, he sounds almost relaxed. Thank fucking god this semester is over. “If I hadn’t caved before, I totally would’ve been past this headache shit.”

 

“Would’ve died from an aneurism though, when the exams gave you a meltdown,” Noct teases, and he shifts his weight as well, turning onto his side so they’re facing each other. Prompto rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, scooting just a little closer, an arm slinging over Noct’s waist. The heavy, comfortable weight of Prompto’s arm feels nice. It’s maybe a little _too_ nice, all rushing hormones and the very real reminder that not so long ago, they’d had their hands _all_ over each other. Somehow, though, this simply gesture feels so much more meaningful than all that other shit they’d been doing.

 

“You’re the one who’s gotta deal with my grumpy ass,” Prompto says, and he’s close enough, Noctis feels the warmth of breath against his cheek.

 

“Maybe I can distract your grumpy ass,” Noctis says, and he scoots a little closer, until they’re pressed up warm and close. It’s a bit dangerous, because there’s a surge of heat all through him, and Noct’s _very_ aware of the contact between them, even if they’re both clothed. Prompto makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat though, and it’s one that’s _even more_ warmth, more blood rushing like fire through Noct’s veins.

 

“Yeah?” Prompto says, and his voice has gone all quiet, inviting.

 

Noctis doesn’t say anything, but he leans in, presses their lips together. They’ve been careful, over the past week, keeping their kissing safe, gentle brushes of lips, tongues curling together only when there’s a bit of distance between them, like when they’re sitting next to each other on the couch. But it’s been mostly a mess of a week, all stress, studying and nicotine withdrawal. Everything’s swirled together into a convoluted disaster of feelings and hormones and sometimes harsh words.

 

This though, it’s different. It’s different than _anything_ they’ve done, even though it all started with some awkward making out. It’s still a bit awkward, because they’ve been through hell together. But they’ve got the angle a little better. Prompto takes control of the kiss fast and swift, his tongue working into Noct’s mouth, exploring, a bit messy, but a whole lot satisfying. His fingers are working into the small of Noct’s back, and for once, Noctis doesn’t mind. Hell, it’s almost a little twinge of relief, against the sore ache of his spine.

 

For all the times Noct didn’t know what to do with his own hands, too, this time, he’s not so concerned about it. His fingers settle over that bit of exposed shoulder, brushing delicately over skin, and Noct’s absolutely fascinated by the way Prompto shudders and makes a soft, muffled sound against his lips. It’s good, and fuck, Noct wants to draw out _more_ of those reactions.

 

They part after a long moment, heaving chests and swollen lips, and even then, Prompto doesn’t draw entirely away, pressing soft little kisses over Noct’s lips, along the corner of his mouth, ducking down along his jaw. Noct’s fingers are working, careful and slow, down past Prompto’s shoulder, tracing down the dip of his waist, the curve of hip, settling there, just above the waist of his pants.

 

“Noct,” Prompto shudders, lips pressed into Noct’s neck. Noctis responds by tipping his head back, and the contact is pure electricity, a jolt that goes all through him, settling hot and needy in between his thighs. He’s hard, and, a little involuntarily, his hips rock forward. Noctis stifles the moan when he feels his cock pressing up against Prompto’s, and he’s damn well aware of how Prompto’s breath hitches, how he pauses those wet kisses, just for a moment.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis groans, and he draws back, just a little, putting just a bit of space between them. “Fuck, Prom, I don’t wanna make this awkward, but do we wanna--?”

 

Prompto lifts his head, and when their eyes meet, somehow, that’s just as fucking arousing as the actual _physical_ parts of it. There’s lust, yeah, his best friend’s eyes lidded, pupils already a little blown out, and Noct has to fight the urge to simply lean in again, to get their lips fastened together, and their hips pressed close and rocking together. More than that though, Noctis realizes he’s captivated, by the shine in his best friend’s eyes, by the freckles he can still make out in the darkness, by the way Prompto’s lips are curling up into a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

 

“Do you wanna?” Prompto asks, slowly, and _fuck,_ Noctis does want to. Every bit of his body is screaming for it, his cock aching, harder than it should be, just from a bit of making out.

 

“I want you,” Noctis agrees, a bit breathlessly, “but fuck, Prom, I don’t wanna fuck this up. I’m _terrified_ of things going all wrong again.”  


Prompto nods, slowly, and takes a deep breath, steadying himself, but he doesn’t draw his hand away from Noct’s waist, and Noctis is horribly grateful for that fact. “How about this instead?” he says, slowly, scooting forward and down a little, until his head’s tucked nicely under Noct’s chin, pressed right up against his chest. It’s intimate, yeah, and they’re still pressed together in a way that sends more of those jolts of arousal all through Noct, but he can handle it. It’s more affection than anything else. It’s not just pure _sex,_ and it’s… well. Powerful. They're both hard as hell, aroused and trembling just a little, but that's a secondary thing, something they can ignore as they stay like this, in a warm embrace.

 

“This is good,” Noctis agrees, and it seems so natural to simply tip his head down, and press a gentle kiss into Prompto’s hair. “Really good.”

 

“Mhmm,” Prompto echoes, “real good.”

 

At some point, Peanut chirps to announce his return, and there’s the slightest shift of weight as he jumps up onto the bed. He’s purring as he settles up warm and happy between their tangled legs, kneading at the bed with his paws. They’re not quite asleep yet, but not entirely awake either, and Prompto makes a quiet, happy sound, head tipping, lips mouthing sweet nothings into Noct’s chest. For the moment, it seems, all the worries about school and grades and the upcoming trip to Tenebrae have been forgotten. And Noctis feels like they’ve started to take the first steps towards something _real_ here, just the two of them and their cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter took forever guysss ugh. anxious, nicotine-deprived prompto was not easy on me!! but boys in love are making me so fucking happy, lmao. also my outline failed me and we're gonna have 36 chapters instead of 35 oops. 
> 
> i'll try to get faster updates out from now on. my kiddos are back in school tomorrow and game of thrones is over until the next book comes out (LOOOOL) or the last season comes out... and we all know which is coming first. ;)
> 
> OH, and a big thanks to @notempty (whose work is amazing and yall should read her fic, she is heavily the inspiration for how i write prompto) because she gave me the Rundown on quitting smoking lol. couldn't have done it without ya bae <3
> 
> as always, thank you for reading!!


	33. Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, there's no going back now, is there?
> 
> There hasn't been any going back for a while, of course, but it all hits Noctis square in the face.

“I can’t look,” Prompto is grumbling, when Noctis wakes. Prompto's handing his phone over, free hand pressed firmly over his eyes, “Noctis, you gotta check for me.”

 

It's morning, and Noctis is far more interested in going back to sleep. There’s something _really_ warm and satisfying, though, about the way that Prompto crawled into his bed and curled up at his side. Normally, the times they’ve shared a bed, Prompto’s up way ahead of him. This time was no exception, except for the part where his freshly showered best friend came _back_ to bed to get pressed up close.

 

It’s a nice way to wake up, Noct has to admit, though he’s rolling his eyes and making sleepy noises as Prompto waves his phone in his face.

 

“Grades posted already?” Noctis sighs, his voice thick with sleep. He’s totally not going to get back to sleep, and there’s an urge to shove Prompto right out of his bed. There’s an even bigger urge to roll on top of him and get his best friend pinned down, and—

 

 _Nope,_ definitely not.

 

“Don’t know if they are,” Prompto admits, “that’s why _you_ have to check for me.”

 

Noctis yawns, and he blearily blinks at the bright screen Prompto’s waving in front of his face. “You know they send out email notifications for our grades, right?”

 

“I _know,_ ” Prompto whines, “but Noctis, that will just freak me out even more. Just look!”

 

Noctis makes another sleepy sound. He snuggles down a little further under the blankets, and it’s nice and cozy. He’d much rather tug Prompto close to him and then lounge in bed for a little while. That thought comes with a rough surge of guilt, one that jerks him awake a little more, though, because _this_ is still so precarious. It’s still something Noct’s worried he’ll fuck up at any given moment. He can’t quite shake that.

 

“Fine,” Noct reaches for the phone. His vision swims in front of his eyes as he tries to blink away the mess of sleep and focus in on the screen. “You shouldn’t be so freaked out, dude.”

 

Prompto makes a pathetic sound and gives Noctis a _look._ “I’m positive I failed that math class, Noct.”

 

A couple of the grades have been posted, and Noct blinks a few more times, until the bolded letters on the screen come together into something other than a blurry mess. “Actually, you got a C in that math class.”

 

“I _passed?!”_  Apparently Prompto doesn’t care that a C is barely a pass, because he’s grinning and throwing his arms around Noct’s neck and the phone tumbles out of Noct’s fingers and falls onto the blankets. “Thank god, Noct, I was gonna cry if I had to take it over again.”

 

"You were gonna cry?" Noctis rolls his eyes. It's easy, though, to curl his arms around Prompto and tug him close, and more than that, it feels _right,_ natural. It feels like they belong together, like this. "I'm the one who would have to listen to you cry."

 

Prompto heaves a long, overdramatic sigh. "Noct, you wound me. So cruel."

 

Noctis laughs, and he tips his head, catching Prompto's eyes. "Well. So far, so good. You passed."

 

"All thanks to you, forcing my stupid ass to study," Prompto admits. There's a moment where they're silent, contemplative. Noctis should check his own grades, of course, but in the moment? That part doesn't seem to matter so much. Yeah, college is about the courses and getting good grades, and making his dad proud, and a whole bunch of other things. In the past weeks though, Noct's learned that there's more to making his dad proud than simply sitting through some lectures and regurgitating some facts.

 

For once in his life, Noctis thinks that maybe he's doing okay, and for reasons other than whatever that screen is telling him.

 

"You weren't that bad," Noct says, and it's truthful. Sure, they've been arguing over stupid things, and Prompto's been irritable, and he'd had that meltdown about smoking. But it's been one hell of a semester. They'd nearly ruined their friendship, Peanut had gone missing, Noct's life has been a series of meltdowns and barely averted crises, but... here they are. At the end of the tunnel.

 

"I've been a nightmare, Noct," Prompto replies, but he's laughing a little, shaking his head, and when he leans in to steal the quickest of kisses, it feels _natural._ It's so different from when they'd started doing this, but the feelings are somehow the same. There's still the flutter in Noct's belly, and the way his heart feels ready to burst. Maybe he's just more receptive of what it all means, now, and that's the biggest lesson of all so far.

 

"It's over now, though," Noctis points out. "We're free for a whole month, before we gotta go back to class."

 

Prompto nods, thoughtfully. A whole month. Of course, they're going to Tenebrae with his dad, and the holidays will rush by, and Prompto will probably throw himself into work. Noct's dad has been mentioning, off-handedly, that he could use a bit of extra help for a couple of weeks, and Noctis has a feeling that, like it or not, he's going to end up at his dad's office. All of that though, it seems easy, after what he's been through.

 

Later, Noctis knows, he'll have a meltdown, because it's always _something._ It seems as though one challenge ends, only for another one to rise from the ashes. That's just growing up; it's one series of events after another. Nothing ever slows down. It's a thought for another day though, because today, Noctis isn't having a meltdown. At least, not right now, when Prompto's close by, and they're quietly celebrating.

 

"Iggy's having a party for us," Prompto says. He's still got his arms around Noctis, fingers playing at the base of his spine. Noct's back hurts, from the weather - it always hurts, these days - and the touch is soothing, has him relaxing into the mattress. "We're gonna go, right?"

 

Noctis hasn't forgotten that, of course. Ignis seems to care more about it being the end of the semester than Noct and Prompto do, something about how "the first one is the hardest" though Aranea had been quick to point out that the first semester is all the "bullshit early morning classes" and that had quickly devolved into a heated debate.

 

"Well, it's gotta go better than your birthday party did," Noct groans, because he still hasn't quite lived that one down.

 

Prompto's smile is wicked, and he draws back a little, eyes glinting mischievously. "What? You mean the party that you ditched, and then crashed?"

 

It's a good thing, Noct supposes, that they're joking about it, but the memory is still... well, it's harsh. It comes with a swirl of emotions, one that makes him suddenly feel queasy. Memories of uncertainties, of being _positive_ that he fucked things up, that he ruined it all. Today's a good day, all things considered. He's spending a warm morning with Prompto in his bed, his best friend's in a good mood, slightly fidgety because of the nicotine, but it's progress.

 

The depression though? It still takes hold, grasps on to the slightest bit if insecurity, and right now, Noct's biting it all back. He offers Prompto a weak smile, and tries to pretend that it doesn't bother him. He's having a _moment_ though, one where he feels ashamed and embarrassed and totally fucked up.

 

"Hey, I showed up, didn't I? I flew across an entire continent last minute just to be there for your birthday."

 

Prompto's smile fades, just for a moment, and then, when he smiles again, it's softer, more _sincere._ It's less sunshine, and more the quiet calm that follows a storm, the world fresh and new.

 

"You did, Noct. I... was kind of an asshole, but... looking back? That was pretty cool of you."

 

Noctis flushes. He certainly didn't anticipate those words, but... hell, he appreciates it. He appreciates Prompto so goddamn much. Noct frowns a little, chewing at his lip, and he tips his head to the side, simply regarding his best friend for a moment. Prompto's watching him, too, and there's a vulnerable expression written all over his face, one that's surprising and endearing and goddamn _perfect._

 

"You're worth it, Prom," Noctis says quietly. And before the situation can get awkward, before both of them retreat into the barriers they'd spent those months building up, he quickly adds, "you wanna stay in bed and watch movies all day, 'til it's time to go to Iggy's?"

 

Prompto grins. "Only if we can order junky food to celebrate, too!"

 

"Deal."

 

Eventually, a few hours later, Prompto throws another miniature fit because the rest of the grades are posted. He's passed everything, not with the best of grades, but it's a _pass._ Prompto's thrilled.

 

"Told you that you're smarter than you give yourself credit for," Noctis points out.

 

Prompto sticks his tongue out. They're sitting up in Noct's bed, shoulder to shoulder, cardboard takeout boxes half-eaten and sitting on the bedside table. Noct won this particular round of "pick the movie" and it's a shitty horror flick about some dumb kids messing with a Ouiji board. It's terribly predictable, none of the characters are relatable, or even likable, and Noct's hoping they all die horrible deaths.

 

"You still haven't checked your grades," Prompto points out, "you can't be that nervous, Noct, you were ready for them. And you had Aranea kicking your ass."

 

Noctis frowns. He's not nervous, not really. He doesn't know how to word it, though. Somehow, after everything they've been through, the actual tests don't seem so important. For a moment, Noctis almost opens up, about how the real life lessons, he thinks, already happened. The stuff with Prompto, the stuff with his dad, learning how to at least _start_ to open up. It all sounds painfully cheesy in his mind though, and instead, Noct flushes and looks away.

 

"Fine. I'll check," he says, and he pauses the movie - it's almost at a good part - and reaches for his phone, thumbing open the school site and logging himself in.

 

"Passed," Noctis says, and even though he doesn't really care, he still feels a little swell of pride, because his dad, at least, will be happy with the couple of high grades he managed to pull off. It shouldn't matter, and in the long run, it doesn't, but for now, it's still a pretty good day.

 

"Of course you did," Prompto grins. "You always pull through, y'know?"

 

"Got an A in depression, too," Noct laughs darkly, self-deprecating, but the words are mild enough.

 

Prompto rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote to turn the movie back on. He hates horror movies, and he's absolutely going to bury his face in Noct's chest, and they both know it. It's endearing, and it's just another aspect of their friendship that has new meaning to it, a new level of nuance.

 

"Pretty sure all of us are good at being depressed, Noct," Prompto points out, and then he immediately gasps at the movie and ducks his head down.

 

Prompto has a point. Noct doesn't voice it, but they both know it. He doesn't need to say it. For now, they're okay.

 

\---

 

Ignis's party is the typical low-key event that they'd assumed it would be. It's less of a party, really, and more of a meet up with the usual crew. Noctis and Prompto show up together, this time, and Gladio and Aranea are already well on their way to drinking each other under the table. Or, well, attempting to, because for her size, Aranea holds her liquor absurdly well.

 

Iris is there, too, and Gladio's apparently given up on trying to keep his little sister from drinking, because she's got a fruity wine cooler in hand. Ignis is his usual self, everything immaculately prepared, snacks and drink mixes and various fancy alcohols all set out in the kitchen, and Prompto perks up, immediately going to get them a couple of drinks, after he kicks off his boots and shrugs out of his jacket. Noct hangs back for a moment, hovering, a little awkward, as he watches Ignis fuss over the food. Gladio and Aranea are arguing about something or another, while Iris giggles and watches.

 

Sometimes, Noct feels like he's the outsider in his friend group, and he's having one of those moments. It's weird, a strange disembodied feeling, one where he's torn between turning and running, or simply hiding behind Prompto, or--

 

"How have you been feeling?" Ignis interrupts Noct's thoughts, abruptly, and Noctis nearly jumps out of his skin. Ignis is holding out a plate, one that's thankfully devoid of the dreaded veggie plate that's sitting on the counter. Instead, there's some chips and a type of homemade dip, some cookies, and a few wedges of cheese. Noctis accepts the plate, and picks at it, frowning a little.

 

"... better, I guess," he says, after a moment of thought. It's certainly not a lie, either. He hasn't quite opened up to Ignis about everything. Noct's in a weird place where he's pretty sure he needs to stop relying on Ignis so much, but at the same time... he's always been there. It's just hard, because he still hasn't even really brought up the whole Aranea topic. She's just slowly worked her way more and more into Noct's life, become a sort of mentor, and whether her relationship with Ignis is serious or not... _well._

 

It's just how nobody's really asked what's going on with him and Prompto, of course.

 

"Good," Ignis says, slowly, pushing his glasses up his nose, and peering down at Noctis with a _look,_ one that's probing, thoughtful. Noct's pretty sure that Ignis is seeing right through him. That's very much something his friend is good at.

 

"I passed everything," Noctis offers up, with a half-feigned smile. He knows that's not at all what Ignis cares about, here. It's obvious. The last party they had, after all, had ended with Noctis going on an utter downward spiral, one that his friends hadn't really been able to help him climb out if. It had taken a lot. It's all unspoken, but Noct can see the concern in Ignis's eyes.

 

"Your father will be pleased," Ignis points out, and Noct groans. Fuck.

 

"Shit, I haven't even told him yet, I should've texted him," Noctis whips his phone out, and he's halfway through typing a message out, when Prompto returns back from the kitchen, two red plastic cups in his hand. He passes one over to Noctis, and grins brightly.

 

"Made ya a drink, Noct. Promise it's _really_ good."

 

Noct's damn well aware of what Prompto's idea of a good drink is. They have a decently long history of teenage drinking, after all, and that's what started this whole story. That damn bottle of fancy wine thieved from his dad's banquet, a whole lot of hormones and teenage fancy, and a huge dose of not-so-unrequited desire. Noctis knows Prompto fancies ridiculously sweet cocktails, and when he takes a sip of his drink, it tastes like candy.

 

It's way too sweet, but Noctis doesn't care, not tonight.

 

"Probably gonna make me go into a diabetic coma," Noctis rolls his eyes, but he sips at his drink, and he follows Prompto into the living room, settling down in a free spot on the couch with his plate of snacks and his drink.

 

"I suspect if anything causes health issues, Noctis, it's the lack of proper nutrients in your life," Ignis remarks, smartly, settling down next to Aranea. By now, she's five or six shots in, and absolutely _fierce,_ smiling at Gladio with fire in her eyes.

 

"Oh, shove it, Specs. It's not your freshman year of college unless you're living on Cup Noodles and poptarts," Aranea points out, with a laugh, and she positively drapes herself in Ignis's lap the first chance she gets, even as she's still eyeing Gladio. "You done yet, Big Guy?"

 

Gladio barks out a laugh and pours them a couple more shots. "Not on your life. Iggy, why do you keep this mad woman around, again?"

 

Ignis shrugs. "Oh, certainly you can imagine a thing or two."

 

Iris giggles and takes another sip of her cooler, the one that Noct's still surprised Gladio isn't even attempting to take away. He and Prompto have settled down next to her, and Prompto's pressed close, his foot nudging into Noct's shin as he picks at the food Ignis had plated up for him. It's very domestic, the two of them pressed close, sharing food, drinks in hand.

 

"Gotta remind you that my _lil sis_ is underage," Gladio grumbles, and he and Aranea down their shots in rapid succession. Gladio makes just the slightest hint of a disgusted face, but Aranea's expression is unwavering, but for a flicker of amusement.

 

"As the _adult_ of the group, I should probably point out that your little sister is drinking," Aranea points out, with wry amusement, "don't worry, though. A lady never kisses and tells."

 

"You are _hardly_ a lady, my dear," Ignis retorts, and Aranea laughs darkly.

 

Noctis says nothing. Prompto lifts a bit of cookie up to his lips, though, and Noctis leans in to take a bite. It's stupid, and it has his heart fluttering again, with the simple gesture of it. Prompto's made the drinks way too strong, and Noct's _already_ beginning to feel it. They'd eaten that junky takeout, mostly empty calories, _hours_ ago, and that was probably not a good idea.

 

There's a brief moment of fear, when Prompto leans and brushes his lips over Noct's cheek. It's a surge of panic, the thought that _all their friends_ are here, and that everyone's gonna stare, and be disgusted. After all, it's one thing to talk about this, to quietly know it's a thing, and it's a whole different subject to be _faced_ with it. It's... well, it's pretty gay, right? To be sneaking little kisses with your best friend. The world freezes around Noctis, and he's torn, because he wants to desperately jerk his head around, to make sure nobody had noticed.

 

He's terrified, though, because he doesn't want to fuck any of this up.

 

Noct's gone rigid, and he only realizes it when Prompto hesitantly says. "... Noct?"

 

Fuck.

 

Noctis does his best to relax. When he looks around, he realizes that Gladio and Ignis are shit talking each other. Aranea's taken an interest in Iris, and Gladio's little sister is leaned forward, eager and enthusiastic as she divulges every finer detail of her life, in the way only a teenage girl who's found a _really_ cool older role model can. And nobody really seems to give a shit that Noctis and Prompto are fumbling through something together, lost in their own moment.

 

They're going to have to go _public_ about this, aren't they?

 

The thought is terrifying and thrilling.

 

"I'm okay," Noctis says quickly. He offers Prompto the best, steadiest smile he can manage, and he musters up all his strength, and leans forward, and nudges their cheeks together. It's not a kiss, but it's _more_ than they had before. It's outright affection. Noctis flushes, and when Prompto nods and smiles, the butterflies in his stomach explode into a storm of emotion. Fuck, he needs another drink. He needs several more drinks.

 

"Looks like you're thinking about something," Prompto says, slowly. He isn't pressing for more though, simply making a statement, and Noct appreciates that, more than he can possibly express with mere words.

 

Noctis takes another swig of his drink. It's almost gone. It's probably not the best way to deal with this situation. Maybe they should _talk,_ to figure out exactly where this is going. Are they dating? Are they _together?_ They've started kissing and they've started pushing boundaries, but something as simple as showing affection in front of their friends, it somehow feels like whole new territory. They didn't talk about it beforehand, though. Because, even though they've seemingly come so far in such a short period of time, they're still dumb. Noct's still clueless and stupid and fumbling through all this, and Prompto's not a whole lot better.

 

Realizing he's been silent for too long again, Noct shrugs. "I need another drink," he says, and the laugh isn't entirely forced. It's the damn truth. Unhealthy coping mechanism or not, it's totally working. Liquid courage. "I'll make 'em this time."

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, and downs the rest of his drink, handing his cup back over to Noctis. "If you say so. You totally don't make them as strong as I do, though."

 

Noct shakes his head as he stands up, and it catches Ignis's attention. "Pace yourselves, boys," Ignis lectures mildly.

 

"See," Noct directs in Prompto's direction, "weak drinks aren't necessarily a bad thing."

 

Prompto flips Noctis off, though. And okay, so when Noct retreats back into the kitchen, he definitely adds an extra splash of rum to the drink mix. Just so that he doesn't have a total utter meltdown, because he and Prompto are doing things. Couple-like things. In front of their friends.

 

Holy shit, there's no going back now, is there?

 

There hasn't been any going back for a while, of course, but it all hits Noctis square in the face. He grips rough at the edge of the counter, just for a moment, teetering on the spot, and the urge to turn and _run_ hits him, roughly. This is dumb. They're his _friends._ Ignis has known about this for... well, probably longer than he's let on, because it's Ignis. He and Gladio have already talked about this. Aranea's been not-so-subtly saying she knows. And Iris? Well she's the sweetest kid, and she's absolutely not going to care.

So why is it such a big deal?

 

More importantly, why does Noctis feel like he's letting Prompto down, with these insecurities?

 

He wants to go home.

 

Instead, Noctis steadies himself, grabs the freshly mixed drinks, and carries them back into the living room. He offers Prompto a slightly stiff smile when he sits down, though, and Prompto's own smile falters, just a little.

 

"You sure you're okay?" Prompto asks, suspiciously, as Noctis hands over the drink, their fingers brushing in a way that _almost_ has Noctis flinching back. Goddamnit, what's wrong with him?

 

"I'm fine," Noctis insists, a little sharper than he'd intended, and he winces, tipping his head away and distracting himself with a drink. It's definitely stronger than he'd intended, and it's not as syrupy sweet as the one Prompto had made. The alcohol takes his breath away and makes him wince, and instead of having that hot, inspiring effect, it somehow just makes all the doubts and fears _grow._ Fuck. Fuck, this isn't good _at all._

 

" _Noct,"_ Prompto says, quietly, in a tone that says he knows that it's _not_ at all fine.

 

Fuck.

 

Noctis sighs, and he puts his drink aside, leaning over Iris to set it down on the table. Iris is definitely tipsy now, and she simply giggles, ignoring everything. Noct's pretty sure Ignis is watching him, discreetly, from the corner of his eye. He's pretty sure Aranea's on to him, too, and damnit, that woman can hold her liquor because Gladio's definitely on his way to being drunk, and she's still casually chatting away.

 

"I think I want to go home," Notis admits, defeated, and he hates himself a little. He feels like he's letting Prompto down, like he should be able to handle _this._ How the hell is he going to survive a trip with Prompto and his _dad,_ if he can't do this around his friends? It's such a fucking mess, and he knows that his best friend is going to hate him again, but what else can he say?

 

Prompto nods, slowly, and he's chewing his lip, fingers twisting in his lap, a mess of nerves and probably going crazy from the lack of cigarettes again. "... is it okay if I come home with ya, then?"

 

Noctis blinks. He hadn't been expecting _that._ "You'll miss the party."

 

"Not much of one, without you," Prompto laughs. "... besides, it's been a long week. Could probably use a quiet night in."

 

Noct really is a mess, a total fucking mess, because relief is flooding through him, at the thought that maybe it's okay after all. That's immediately chased away by the guilt though, because he's guilty that he can't handle this. He's anxious and sad and nervous and _horribly_ convinced that everyone will know he's letting them all down.

 

"Okay, let's go home then," Noctis agrees. He's a little wobbly when he moves to stand up. Iris, realizing that they're leaving, is quick to smile and chatter and give Noctis a tight hug, squealing about how much she's _missed_ him, and yeah, Gladio's definitely gonna have to cut little sister off. Gladio and Aranea are quick to say their goodbyes, and strike up talk with Prompto, who's definitely handling this better, still nursing the drink Noct made him as he casually stands up and stretches.

 

"A word?" Ignis says though, silently lifting up off the couch and following Noctis. He tugs him into the kitchen, and everyone else is blissfully distracted, as Noct awkwardly looks his friend over. It's hard to focus, and his heart is pounding for absolutely no fucking reason. Noct crosses his arms over his chest and shuffles his weight around, desperate for something that _isn't_ crippling insecurity to rush in and save him.

 

"Sorry, Iggy," Noctis says, quietly, when he realizes Ignis isn't actually _talking._ "... I thought I could handle it, but... I'm still just taking it a day at a time."

 

Ignis nods, slowly, and his voice is pointedly low. "You don't need to rush this, Noctis. We all support you, but... you two need to _communicate._ Talk it out. Everything else will come."

 

Noctis wants to point out to Ignis that he got into this whole mess _because_ he couldn’t quite deal with people knowing about what was going on. He’d been terrified. But maybe that isn’t entirely accurate. He’d been too afraid to admit to _himself,_ after all, and that had been the heart of the problem. That bit, Noctis isn’t entirely avoiding anymore. He’s damn well aware of just what being around his best friend does to him.

 

Still, he feels like sinking into the floor.

 

“I’m trying,” Noct says, in a pathetic little voice, and he feels stupid. He feels like he’s tiny again, crying and making Ignis pick up the pieces. They’ve been friends for so damn long that of course Ignis knows. He’s probably known for longer than Noct has, really.

 

He doesn’t quite expect it, when Ignis suddenly grips at his shoulder, and tugs him in for a sudden, tight hug. All the air leaves Noct’s lungs, quite abruptly, and there’s a long moment where Noct is simply _frozen,_ in place. Slowly, though, purely out of instinct, his arm slides around Ignis’s waist, and Noct leans in, his cheek pressing into his friend’s chest. It’s weird, and Ignis hasn’t really hugged him like this in ages. They’ve grown apart a little bit over the years, and Noct is suddenly reminded that his friend is _loyal_ to him. Ignis has always been by his side.

 

Why would _this_ make a difference? Why is he so fucking weird about all this, still?

 

“Thanks,” Noctis mumbles. He doesn’t draw away, and he’s aware that his eyes are wet, that he’s holding back some pathetic tears.

 

“Noctis,” Ignis says, quietly, voice so low it’s little more than a whisper in his ear, “whatever you’re going through, I am _here._ I won’t simply sit back and let you suffer any longer. You understand?”

 

Noctis nods, and he _does_ believe it, he realizes. He’s lucky. He’s so goddamn lucky to have such good friends. They take care of him, when he’s feeling anxious and depressed and sad, if he’ll let them.

 

Problem is, Noctis still needs to learn exactly how to let them do that.

 

“Yeah,” he says, quietly, and as he draws away, he realizes Prompto’s standing in the hallway. He’s already got his boots on, and he’s silently pretending not to watch, looking at his phone and just _waiting._ Fuck. Noct knows that Prompto saw, and he’s both horribly embarrassed and appreciative that he can at least feign ignorance about the whole thing.

 

“Ready?” Prompto says, when Noctis shuffles over to the door and bends down to tug his shoes back on. Prompto hands him his jacket. His best friend already looks a little tipsy, his cheeks flushed bright, and somehow, that makes Noct feel a little better. Prompto’s pretending everything’s okay.

 

“Text me when you get home,” Ignis says, as Noctis shrugs into his coat and they head out the door. Aranea calls out a goodbye over her shoulder, and Gladio waves, and Iris blows them kisses.

 

“Yes, _mom,_ ” Noctis grumbles, endearingly, and before the door swings shut, he gives Ignis a _look._ He swears he sees something written on Ignis’s face, in the moments before it’s just him and Prompto again. Ignis will support them. He’s always supported Noctis, maybe when he shouldn’t have.

 

They’re on the sidewalk when, on total instinct, Noctis reaches for Prompto’s hand and tangles their fingers together. Somehow, something that seemed insurmountably hard just moments ago, inside, is easy now. Somehow, even though there’s quite a few people on the streets, Noctis doesn’t care what a bunch of strangers think. It’s the weekend after exams, after all, and everyone’s partying and having a good time and just enjoying the holidays.

 

“Thanks,” Noct says, as they begin to walk. It feels like snow in the air. It always feels like snow, these days, and winter is still barely just beginning. It smells like it’s going to storm, too, even though the night air is crisp and clear. The stars are bright pinpricks overhead, through the light pollution, and the moon is glowing. It’s almost full, round and eerie and beautiful, piercing through the darkness. The street lamps cast halos in the darkness, and all the light is reflecting off the snow that’s coating the ground.

 

“Whatcha thanking me for?” Prompto replies. His feet are scuffing against the icy ground as they walk. His fingers are flexing a little, locked in Noct’s grasp, and Noctis can tell he’s itching for a smoke. Hell, when they’re walking like this, at night, all empty, cold night air between them, with a good stretch of blocks to go until they’re warm and home, Noct doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t smoke, and even he could go for a couple of drags right about now.

 

Noctis shrugs, and he tries to sound as casual and noncommittal as he can. “For leaving. We were barely even there. I… sorry.”

 

Prompto is silent for a moment, and then he speaks. “Sometimes it feels like a lot’s changed, huh, Noct?”

 

Feels like it. But has it really changed? Noctis doesn’t think it has. It’s more… he’s starting to see the world with increasing clarity in some places, and in others, it’s just become even more obscured and confused. He doesn’t really know what to say.

 

Noctis squeezes Prompto’s hand, hard enough that it hurts a little.

 

“I told you I’m terrified,” Noct finds himself mumbling, and there’s a sudden burst of inspiration with the words. Prompto doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere. Maybe, just maybe, if he really does _talk,_ it’ll help. “I… still freak out. Just because I messed up so bad in front of everyone, last time. And… it’s dumb and I _really_ like this, and you, and whatever _we_ are, and—“

 

“Noctis,” Prompto says quickly, interrupting Noct mid-thought, and the words fall dead on Noct’s lips as Prompto sways to bump their hips together. The little jolt of contact is grounding, somehow. “Noct, buddy, you’re _overthinking_ this. It’s okay.”

 

They’re both a little tipsy, Prompto more than Noctis, maybe, and the words are coming a little easier, now that it’s just them. The alcohol has Noct’s veins warming up a bit at least, surges of liquid courage, and it must be doing the same for Prompto, because he keeps talking.

 

“ _All_ I wanted was for _you_ to know what you want,” Prompto adds, and now he’s the one squeezing Noct’s hand. “If you aren’t ready to tell your dad, or our friends… I can live with that, Noct, as long as this isn’t exactly the long-term life plan, y’know?”

 

Noctis stops walking for a second. Prompto takes a half-step ahead, and then realizes he’s stopped, and turns to face him. They’re right under a street light, and Prompto’s face is basked in warm orange light from overhead. Noctis can see his eyes, and his freckles, and he’s infinitely grateful.

 

“Didn’t know if we should _have_ a long-term plan,” Noctis admits, flushing, and he ducks his head down to stare at the ground, kicking with the toe of his shoe. “… is that a thing we have?”

 

Prompto laughs a little. “I haven’t gone anywhere yet, have I? Don’t exactly plan on it, either.”

 

They’re near the corner store they’d been walking to when they’d had that very different conversation, almost two months back now. It’s relatively busy now, with people in and out to grab 40s on their way to house parties, or to just stock up on snacks for a relaxing night in to unwind after the stressful week. Noctis doesn’t care that someone might see them right now, though. His mind’s a mess, and he doesn’t know what he should be thinking, but damnit, Prompto’s _right._

 

This is something. This is everything.

 

Noct leans in, closing the distance between them, and their lips meet. They’re both shivering and cold, despite the rush of adrenaline and the way the alcohol wamrs their very blood. The kiss is quick, and when their freezing noses bump together, Prompto makes a startled noise and draws back.

 

“Can we just… get in bed and warm up and pretend I didn’t just almost have a meltdown?” Noctis asks quickly, somewhat embarrassed just by uttering the words aloud.

 

“On two conditions,” Prompto agrees, with a grin, and he’s tugging on Noct’s hand again, pulling him down the street. “First, no more dumb horror movies. I get to pick.”

 

It breaks the tension though, and Noct’s laugh, this time, is genuine. Their shoulders bump and when Prompto leans in to nuzzle their cheeks together, Noct leans in as well. “Deal. What’s the second condition?”

 

Prompto gives him a _look._ “If you’re gonna have a meltdown when we’re with your dad… don’t shut me out, okay? I can handle it. I wanna be here, Noct.”

 

That’s a loaded statement, and it almost makes Noctis stop walking dead in his tracks. He pauses, for a split second, manages to avoid tripping over his own two feet, and he keeps going. “Okay,” Noct agrees, after a silence, “I’ll do my best. But Prom?”

 

Prompto’s smile is bright, and it lights up Noct’s life, and makes the whole evening worth it. “Yeah?”

 

“Next time you wanna sneak another cigarette, come get me. I wanna be here.”

 

Prompto barely misses a beat. “Okay, Noct. Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck i'm sorry for the really late update! ): 
> 
> i had a lot going on this week. i had a bunch of job interviews and depression and life, and i wrote basically everything except ludic, lol. <3
> 
> thanks for sticking w/ me! i swear i'm wrapping this fic up... just... slooowly. 
> 
> thanks to @unsteadygenius for doing word sprints until i finished this damn chapter. i said healthy snacks, noctis!!


	34. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Smile, Noctis,” his father says, and goddamnit, Noctis smiles, and he realizes that it’s easy to smile, being here with Prompto and his dad. It’s weird, but he’s happy. It’s dumb.

Noct’s on the verge of a panic attack, but he’s keeping it together, and he’s kinda-sorta proud of that fact.

 

Okay, so maybe it’s dumb that he agreed to go on a trip with his _dad_ and his _best-friend-but-maybe-more,_ and that’s a whole other story. It’s all coming at a bad time, with the college campus being closed until after the holidays, and that means no counselling sessions. It’s just Noctis and the dumb little notebook he keeps tucked away, to write down his stupid good thought and his thing that he’s doing, and it’s keeping him going, but he’s a nervous wreck.

 

The past couple of days have been _interesting._ He and Prompto get into a dumb argument over a video game, and somewhere along the line, they both realize that they’d each just _assumed_ the other was going to be arranging for someone to watch Peanut while they were gone. Assumptions are bad in the best of times, but Noctis is still a bit caught up in himself, and Prompto’s on take two of trying to quit smoking – it’s going about as well as expected – and they end up snapping at each other, cranky and annoyed.

 

Half an hour later, of course, Prompto comes to apologize, and Noct’s texted Gladio, who’s more than happy to swing by and get Peanut for the week. Crisis averted.

 

Now, it’s the night before they’re supposed to go to the airport. The cat has already been safely seen off, though Prompto overdramatically sniffled after they wrestled him into his carrier and passed him off to Gladio. Noct’s dad is gonna pick them up bright and early, at three in the morning, and Noctis doesn’t really see the point in getting a few hours’ sleep, just to deal with the misery of having to wake up at such a horrible time.

 

“We should sleep,” Prompto says. He’s brimming with excitement, because the last trip he’d been on was the trip to the beach they’d had in their senior year. International travel isn’t exactly something that Prompto’s experienced in. Noct’s just glad that his own nervousness isn’t contagious, cuz he feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin.

 

“I’m not tired,” Noctis replies. Their suitcases are packed and ready to go. Noctis had experienced a miniature meltdown when he’d realized that they’re sharing a hotel room and had to face the dilemma of whether or not he should pack _supplies,_ in case things get heated. Not that he thinks they will, but… well, they’ve been on the edge of something for a while now, let’s be honest.

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, and gives Noctis a playful shove. They’re in Prompto’s room for once, sitting on his bed, and Noctis, honestly, really likes it in here. Maybe it’s the fond memories of awkward first-time sex that he can think back on without so much of the weirdness. Really, Noctis is pretty sure he just likes being surrounded by Prompto, his best friend, the one person he’s learned to lean on over the past few months.

 

“You’re definitely tired. You get all grumpy,” Prompto points out. Noctis grumbles and opens his mouth to make some smart-ass remark, like _maybe Prompto’s the one in the shitty mood,_ but he immediately thinks better of it, and just rolls his eyes instead. They’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, backs up against the wall, and Prompto’s got some stupid anime playing on his computer. Noct’s not really watching.

 

“You’re really okay with going?” Noctis asks, for what seems like the hundredth time.

 

“Noct, buddy,” Prompto replies, turning a little, to look at Noctis square on, “if this is your way of uninviting me from a trip like six hours before we leave, just do it, okay?”

 

Fuck. That’s not when he meant at all, and Noctis lifts his eyes and shoots Prompto a _look._

 

“Not what I meant. Don’t joke about that shit, Prom. I… just… it’s _my dad.”_

There’s been just a permeating weirdness about this whole thing. Noct’s dad, of course, made all the arrangements. He sent Noctis the flight reservation and the hotel stuff, and he got them their own room, and _of course he did,_ it doesn’t have to be weird, but… well, what does this make things? Maybe Noctis should have sat down with his dad and cleared the air, figured out if this is a trip for Noctis and his best friend, or the Noctis that’s maybe-sorta-in a relationship with his best friend. Or maybe there’s no difference at all between those two Nocts anymore, and he’s back to just obsessing.

 

“We still have a couple of those brownies, y’know,” Prompto points out, with a lazy little smile. “If you wanna share a bit of one. Ignis said they’re good frozen for like six months.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like a _perfect_ way to have a total panic attack, Prom,” Noctis sighs. There’s a certain level of appeal to the idea, of course, but he has a feeling with the way he’s barely holding back a meltdown, as is, combined with the paranoia of getting caught _high_ in airport security… Noctis sighs, and he simply reaches for Prompto’s hand, instead.

 

“I want a cigarette,” Prompto says, squeezing his hand.

 

“I want to cry,” Noctis echoes back his own confession. They look at each other, and somehow, impossibly, they both start to laugh, because they’re really goddamn _pathetic,_ but they’re together, at least.

 

\---

 

Naturally, it was much weirder in Noct’s mind than it ends up being. Noctis eventually dozes off for a couple of hours, his head in Prompto’s lap, while Prompto’s fingers comb through his hair. Maybe Prompto sleeps a bit, too, but his best friend’s awake with the first of several alarms he’s set, and Prompto drags Noctis up out of his bed. They’re still a few minutes late when Noct’s dad pulls up to pick them up – because of course they are – but the trip to the airport is uneventful. Prompto and Noct’s dad make idle chat while Noctis dozes, his face pressed against the glass. And whatever nerves are rushing through Noct, they’re slowly eased, when he realizes that Prompto and his father actually seem to _get along._

 

Somehow, that’s comforting.

 

They end up getting through security and to their gate with relative ease, too. Noct’s dad is a seasoned traveler at this point, after years of running a company, and Noct’s no stranger to it himself. Prompto’s brimming with nervous energy, as always, chatty and bubbly to a fault, but they’re all shuffled through. Noct’s dad buys them breakfast, and Prompto sips way too much coffee and Noctis curls up on the chair and dozes through it all.

 

“Can I have the window seat?!” Prompto asks, grinning, as they’re boarding. “This is _so_ cool, Mr. Caelum, I never get to fly, and it’s first class!” 

 

“It’s Regis, Prompto,” Noct’s dad corrects, with a wry smile and a shake of his head, for what’s at least the tenth time on this trip alone. Noct’s pretty sure Prompto’s doing it as a joke at this point, though, and he hears the humour in his dad’s tone, and he can only smile.

 

“Window’s all yours,” Noctis says, as he and Prompto get settled into their seats. First class is nice, and Prompto’s eyes go as wide as saucers as he realizes he gets a plush-backed reclining chair, with a nice, big arm rest between the two chairs that they’re occupying. Noct’s dad is sitting behind them, visible in the gap between the seat backs. “You’re gonna regret all that coffee though when you need to get past me twenty times. I’m gonna sleep through this entire flight.”

 

“That’s _boring_ Noct, you aren’t gonna watch the clouds?!” Prompto shoots him an offended look, as he adjusts his seat, his backpack tucked under the one in front of him, loaded up with his camera and handheld console and games and a whole bunch of other stuff Noctis didn’t bother to pack. His carry on simply has his phone and a couple of battery packs.

 

“Prompto, this is a _long_ flight, why would you wanna stare at clouds for hours?”

 

“Because it’s _exciting,_ Noct,” Prompto says, and he twists in his seat, ducking his head back in the space between the seats to look at Noct’s dad. “Right, Mr. Caelum?! You travel a lot, it’s _cool,_ huh?”

 

Noct’s father shakes his head and laughs. He’s already on his laptop, apparently doing some sort of work while they wait to finish boarding. “If only my son saw the world the way you do, Prompto.”

 

Noctis opens his mouth to complain, but he’s suddenly very sleepy. “I’m going to sleep,” he announces. And maybe it’s just because he’s tired, half-asleep, but when Prompto’s hand slips over the armrest between them, Noctis extends his own hand, and their fingers curl together. He’s pretty sure his dad can see, if he looks just right, but right now at least, Noctis doesn’t care.

 

\---

 

He ends up napping a good portion of the flight. It’s a direct one, with no layover, and that’s nice. Prompto’s fidgeting in his seat by the end of it the flight – he never did do well with sitting still for long periods of time – and Noctis feels groggy, sore, his neck aching from the awkward angle he slept in.

 

It’s a relief when they land, even though Noctis has a feeling he’s already horribly jetlagged by the time difference. They’re staying at the same hotel as before, and there’s a really weird feeling of deja-vu tinting the whole experience. It’s _different_ now, of course. The last time Noctis was here, he’d been in the middle of an argument with Prompto. He’d been tormented by the fact that his best friend wasn’t talking to him, and everything had been starkly different.

 

“What’re you doing here this time anyway, dad?” Noctis asks, as they wait around in the lobby. They’d requested an early check in, and their rooms are just about ready. It’s a fancy hotel, and Prompto’s still looking around all wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“Meetings,” his father says, “the contract I was negotiating last trip is… _complicated._ It’s hard to form solid business connections, sometimes.”

 

“Sounds stressful,” Prompto pipes up. He’s got his phone out and he’s trying to take the perfect selfie, but none of the photos seem to be turning out to his standards, probably because they’re all travel-weary and exhausted.

 

Noct’s dad shrugs, noncommittal. “After a while, these things become routine.”

 

“Dad’s always traveled a lot,” Noctis pipes up. He’s rubbing at the back of his neck, because it _hurts,_ and it’s a shame that he hates being touched so much, because it’s a fancy hotel with a spa, and he’s pretty sure a massage would do a world of good right about now.

 

“Too much, I’m afraid,” his father agrees, and Noctis feels a little jolt in his stomach. Guilt. That’s what it is.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that…” Noctis tries to say, trailing off, biting at his lip. Is this going to be another awkward experience where he says entirely the wrong thing?

 

Luckily, his dad waves it off, and he climbs out of his seat, extending a hand. “Prompto, you know, instead of taking twenty selfies, you could simply ask one of your travel companions. Noctis, stop being a lazy lump and get in the photo.”

 

Noct feels his heart leap into his throat now. He tries to protest, but now Prompto’s grinning ear to ear, scooting closer and throwing an arm around his shoulders. Noct’s pretty sure his face is flushing, because they’re _close,_ and it’s a friendly gesture, yeah, but his dad is here, and _why do things still have to be so weird?_

 

“Smile, Noctis,” his father says, and goddamnit, Noctis _smiles,_ and he realizes that it’s easy to smile, being here with Prompto and his dad. It’s weird, but he’s happy. It’s dumb.

 

His father hands the phone back to Prompto, and Noct leans in to look at it. Yeah, his cheeks are a little pink, and they both definitely look exhausted, but both of them are grinning ear-to-ear, and Noctis realizes he looks… well, he looks happy. He almost doesn’t recognize himself in the photo, because looking at photograph Noctis? It’s like seeing himself without all the self-doubt and the worry and the confusion.

 

“C’mon, Mr. Caelum. You get in the picture, too,” Prompto’s saying, and he laughs when Noct’s dad swoops in. This time, Noct’s grin comes easily, and he laughs at the stupid face his dad is making, when Prompto draws his phone back in for them all to see.

 

“Well, that does it. You are officially invited on all future Caelum trips,” Noct’s dad says. “I am terrible at selfies, and my _son_ is too lazy. This will be the most well-documented trip we’ve ever taken.”

 

Noctis groans, because he’s still not sure how he feels about _that._ He doesn’t get a chance to protest, though, because their rooms are ready, and an employee is coming to hand them over their room cards and get their luggage sent up.

 

There’d been a bit of fear in Noct’s mind that when they’d get to their room, it’d be a king bed, or something terribly awkward. They’re a few doors down from their dad’s room, too, and Noct… well, he doesn’t want to think that it’s _intentional_ that they aren’t sharing a wall with his dad’s room, but he knows his father a little too well to think that it’s a coincidence. Noctis tries to keep from flushing at _that_ thought.

 

Luckily, they’ve got two queen beds. He’s appreciative that his dad is at least letting him put up appearances here.

 

“Figured we’d have a lazy day,” Noct’s dad says, as they part ways. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on and a conference call. We’ll meet later for dinner and plan what we’re doing tomorrow?”

 

“Sounds good,” Noctis agrees, stifling a yawn. “Dibs on the shower, Prom.”

 

Prompto groans, and grumbles, but Noctis wins out, on the solid logic that _“you take forever to shower, Prom,”_ and that part isn’t a lie. Noct’s the type of person who absolutely uses the little complimentary shampoo bottles because _they’re free, why wouldn’t I?_ Prompto, on the other hand, has a stuffed plastic bag of meticulously labeled travel-sized bottles of his shampoo and conditioner and soap, and little travel-sized samples of all his makeup, too.

 

“At least let me organize things in the bathroom, first!” Prompto grumbles, but Noct’s already got the bathroom door closed and he’s stripping out of his clothes and diving into the hot shower.

 

The water helps. But fuck, Noct’s mind starts racing again, the second he’s alone. Absolutely _nothing_ has gone wrong on this trip so far. His dad’s being outright supportive, without actually saying a word about their tangled fingers, or the way Prompto threw an arm around him, or the _looks_ they keep sneaking. He’s got to know. Noctis outright _told_ him, after all, that there’s something going on.

 

And now, they’ve got a hotel room to themselves. Yeah, they’ve got the two beds, but there’s no walls, no barriers, and—

 

And fuck, Noct’s already got a hand snaked down between his thighs, and he’s got it curled around his cock. He’s half-hard, and he didn’t even realize he was, not until this moment, and suddenly he can’t stop thinking about his best friend. He has no idea how thick the walls are, or if the water is muffling out the gasps he’s choking back, but it doesn’t stop Noct from leaning back against the wall and jerking himself until he comes all over his fingers.

 

His cheeks are flushed bright, but the steam billowing out gives him an excuse, when Noctis emerges, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp.

 

“That wasn’t a short shower,” Prompto says, accusing, but Noctis doesn’t _think_ his best friend’s on to him. Prompto claimed the bed by the window (a rookie traveling choice, because it’s right next to the air conditioner) and he’s already unpacking some of his stuff. Noct’s cheeks flush, again, brighter, when he realizes that Prompto’s still got his little plush dog, and he’d packed it.

 

“I uh, sleep better with him,” Prompto offers, when he catches Noctis looking. They both look away, awkward, and then Prompto’s scooting past him, darting into the bathroom. Noctis sits on the bed.

 

Fuck. Did he make things weird?

 

Eventually, it’ll go back to normal, right?

 

He flops down on his back, the towel still wrapped around his waist, and he tips his head to the side, staring at Prompto’s bed. Noctis almost wishes his dad had just gone and booked them the king, because then they could’ve laughed about it, and ended up curled up together. Now he has to _initiate_ something, to come up with an excuse to sleep next to Prompto.

 

Realistically, at this point, Prompto’s probably thinking something similar. But they’re still a bit stubborn, still stuck in their ways, even if they’re trying now. It’s still hard, sometimes, to meet halfway.

 

\---

 

They have dinner at a casual, but somewhat upscale place, a couple of blocks from the hotel.

 

“I feel underdressed,” Prompto admits, with a laugh. The weather in Tenebrae is _really_ nice, compared to back home. It’s cold in Insomnia, but here, it feels more like autumn again. Noct’s pretty sure if any of them are underdressed, it’s him, in his usual t-shirt and a pair of jeans affair. Prompto, at least, is wearing one of those cozy oversized sweaters and a scarf around his neck, and he’d bothered with his hair and makeup. Noctis looks like he’d just fallen out of bed. Which, really, he had, because he’d spent part of the afternoon napping, before Prompto had managed to convince him to go exploring the area around the hotel.

 

“It’s fine, Prom,” Noctis says, picking up the menu and browsing through it with a frown. He settles on the most deep-fried looking thing, even though he knows Prompto will go back and forth between three or four things and then settle with the salad. Prompto almost always gets the damn salad.

 

“Drinks?” their server asks, as she makes the rounds to their table.

 

“We’ll do a bottle of red wine for the table,” Noct’s father says, before Noctis can do his usual and order a soda. Noct groans, and Prompto’s cheeks flush just a little. “What? Don’t you two dare complain, I _know_ where my bottles used to disappear to.”

 

There’s not really anything Noctis can say to _that,_ of course, because it’s absolutely true, and they’ve got their messy, drunken selves to blame for a whole lot of what’s happened over the past few months.

 

“You know, I don’t even like wine, dad,” Noctis says, after his father peruses the drink menu quickly and selects a bottle that’s probably far more expensive than it’s worth.

 

“But you’ll drink it,” his father counters, and Noctis sighs, because he’s totally right. And, of course, Noct’s almost acquired a taste for it, over the years, because there _have_ been lots of bottles stolen over the course of their high school years.

 

The downside to drinking after a long day of travel means that after two drinks, Noct’s definitely feeling tipsy, and Prompto’s gotten giggly and affectionate after who even knows how many. He’s scooting his chair closer to Noct’s, and he’s all smiles as he steals a few French fries off Noct’s plate, despite the half-eaten salad in front of him.

 

“There’s a few museums we didn’t get to visit last time,” Noct’s dad is saying, as he cuts into his steak. “Thought we could squeeze those in. There’s been a lot of last minute meetings scheduled, and I’m afraid I’m rather busy the next few days, but you two will keep each other occupied, I’m sure…”

 

Prompto nudges into Noct’s shoulder, and Noct feels his cheeks flush. Again. Goddamnit, he’s basically a living tomato at this point.

 

“This is really cool, Mr. Caelum! Don’t worry about us! We’ll find lots to do! I don’t get to travel much, so just being here is really awesome,” Prompto says, brightly, with a radiant smile that lights up his whole face.

 

Noct’s dad smiles, and it’s a genuine one. “I’m happy to have you. Any time the two of you want to come along, you’re always welcome.”

 

Noctis shoves a handful of fries in his mouth, and hopes that it soaks up some of the alcohol sitting in his stomach. He should’ve stopped after the one glass. Of course, he’s already eyeing the bottle, debating a third, because why the hell not?

 

“Better not say that,” Prompto teases, “otherwise you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

 

“Forever, huh?” Noctis grins, and he nudges his foot up against Prompto’s, under the table. The wine is making him brave, making him feel _invincible,_ like nothing bad can happen. “Pretty sure we can live with that, Prom.”

 

“Yeah?” Prompto leans in, grabbing his glass and downing the rest of his wine. “You say that now.”

 

Noct’s father shrugs, and smiles, and sips at his own drink, like the adult in this situation. “You’ve been around for years now, Prompto. The better question is why didn’t we all do this sooner?”

 

Noctis almost wants to point out that they haven’t done this before because things with his dad have been _strained._ Even before it got weird with Prompto, before all the other stuff, any of his dad’s trips usually involved his father stressed out for days prior, staying late at work or locked away in the home office, and then while he was gone, Prompto would swing by their condo and spend the night and they’d stay up way too late burning through a few boxes of pizza and the newest video games.

 

“My parents travel a lot, too,” Prompto says, though, and that pulls Noctis out of his own head again. Prompto leans across the table, going for the bottle of wine, and he pours himself a little more. “… and my uncle, too. So, I mean, it’s nice to get invited for once, instead of being stuck at home, waiting for someone to come back.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and Noctis realizes, desperately, that he wants to draw Prompto into his arms. He’s a little bit drunk though, and they’re in the middle of a crowded restaurant, so he settles, instead, with leaning a little closer, and offering up an almost _shy_ smile. “Anything you want from us, we’re here.” And then, realizing what he’s said, cheeks flushing _yet again,_ Noct lifts his eyes, shooting his dad a _look_ from across the table. “Uh. Right dad?”

 

“Noct is quite right,” his father agrees, with a smile that Noctis doesn’t quite recognize. It’s… protective, almost, maybe tinged with a level of sadness, but it makes Noctis appreciate, fully, just how much his dad is trying here. The past might be complicated, and he might still take forever to get past it but… his dad is really working here. And it’s not going unnoticed.

 

“I’m here for you, Noctis. And you too, Prompto. Both of you.”

 

Prompto flushes, and nods. He swirls the glass of wine in his hand for a moment, before taking a sip. “… you know, this is the closest I’ve ever come to having a family. I… thank you.”

 

There’s a pause, one where Noctis doesn’t quite know what to say, and he goes for another fry, instead.

 

“We’ve been here for _years,_ Prom. Pretty sure you half lived with us during high school, anyway,” Noctis tries to joke, but he sees the emotion in Prompto’s eyes. Fuck. For a minute, Noct’s pretty sure that they’re going to have some sort of weird moment in public over dinner. The wine was probably a bad idea.

 

Noct’s father apparently senses the same, because he’s quickly reaching for the mostly empty wine bottle and dragging it back over to his side of the table before either of them can decide to go for it again. “Well, boys. Let’s toast, then. To a fantastic week.”

 

Noct raises his glass, and he’s only a little wobbly, and Prompto follows suit. They finish off their wine, and then Noct’s father orders a couple of large glasses of water for the two of them, laughing under his breath about how miserably hung over they’re going to be in the morning, if they’re not careful.

 

By the time they leave, it’s getting quite late. Prompto and Noctis are grinning, leaning into each other, and it’s hard right now for Noct to care about things like discretion, or the fact that his _father_ is right there. When Prompto’s hand slips into his, Noctis twines their fingers together and he squeezes, and their shoulders bump.

 

“Feel free to order room service,” Noct’s dad says, as they walk down the street. “Doubt you boys will be out of bed early enough to make it to breakfast.” They’re in a central part of Tenebrae, and the streets are relatively busy, but nobody’s glancing in Noct or Prompto’s direction at all, even as they exchange glances and furtive smiles and it makes Noctis feel a little bit better. It makes him feel, at least, like the world isn’t staring them down.

 

“Don’t say that,” Prompto sighs, “I’m gonna order some _really_ gross, sugary pancakes… my uncle took me on vacation with him one year and he let me order room service and I had these chocolate pancakes with chocolate syrup and I was _so_ sick…” He shudders at the memory.

 

Prompto’s uncle. Noct’s immediately curious. As close as their friendship is, getting to the hard stuff is still pretty new.

 

“I won’t let you order the chocolate pancakes, then,” Noctis teases. He wants to push, but he’s still terrified, afraid that if he says the wrong thing, or does the wrong thing, Prompto will push him away again. It’s exhausting, and a little bit sobering, honestly.

 

“Gee, thanks,” Prompto laughs, and he gives Noct’s hand a squeeze. There’s a moment, too, where Prompto ducks in, nudges his face into Noct’s shoulder, that has his heart threatening to pound out of his chest. Fuck, they’re in _public,_ but it feels good, and Noct glances up at his dad, desperately, but his father, if he saw, doesn’t say anything.

 

“I’ve actually _had_ the chocolate chip pancakes,” Noct’s father says, instead, his voice dripping with feigned sincerity, “they’re delicious, Prompto.”

 

“ _Regis,”_ Prompto groans, “… er. Shit. Mr. Caelum. Hell. Can I _call_ you Regis?”

 

Noctis groans. Prompto is _drunk._

 

“That’s quite presumptuous, isn’t it? Assuming we’re on first name basis…” Noct’s father chimes back.

 

Noctis sighs, “dad, don’t mess with him, he’s _drunk—“_

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Caelum, I didn’t mean it!” Prompto whines, a little too loudly. He almost misses a step, and he trips, but Noct's got a secure hold on him, and he hoists him back up, keeping his best friend upright.

 

Noct’s father laughs, and looks back at them, a light in his eyes. “It’s fine, Prompto. Regis is fine.”

 

\---

 

When they get back into the hotel room, they collapse into their respective beds, and Noctis turns the television on. He’s slightly less drunk than Prompto is, thank goodness, because Prompto definitely had too much wine, and now he’s whining about the floor spinning. Noct stumbles a little, but he manages to strip down to his boxers and he gets the air conditioning running.

 

Eventually, halfway through a true crime show, Noctis dozes off. He only wakes up when he feels the bed shifting, and when Prompto’s too-warm body snuggles up against him.

 

“Hey,” Prompto’s voice is a little bit pathetic, kinda wavery. “Noct, you awake?”

 

Noctis groans. He’d made sure to down a lot of water before falling asleep, and his dad had given them some painkillers. His head is still throbbing though, from the combination of travel and a bit too much to drink, and the fact that his sleep schedule is way more fucked up than usual. Worse, he’d fallen asleep at a weird angle, and so now his neck hurts even _more._

 

“I’m awake now, jerk,” Noctis says, turning onto his side to face Prompto. The television’s still droning in the background, though the true crime show is over and now it sounds like an action movie or something.

 

Prompto sighs, and makes a quiet sound. He snuggles in closer, and his lips brush over Noct’s neck. The simple bit of contact sends a shiver down Noct’s spine, and parts of him that were very much asleep are slowly stirring awake, fuck.

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Prompto mumbles, the words a bit muffled against Noct’s skin, and it makes him sigh. “It’s cold over there…”

 

Noctis manages a quiet laugh. “Cuz you took the bed by the air conditioner. Dumb mistake, Prom.”

 

Prompto’s definitely still drunk. Noct’s buzz has mostly worn off, replaced by the dull throbbing in his temple. It doesn’t stop Noctis from curling an arm around Prompto’s waist though, and dragging him a little closer. “Still cold?” his voice has an edge of tease to it, as his fingers splay across Prompto’s spine.

 

They’re close enough that Noctis feels the way Prompto shivers, and his skin is warm, a bit damp with sweat. “A little,” Prompto admits, “Noctis. I really want a cigarette, and I almost went out to smoke, but I..." he pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues, instead, "can I sleep here?”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, instantly, and okay, so maybe the alcohol has taken care of that one particular dilemma about sleeping in separate beds. The whole night, suddenly, seems so much brighter.

 

Prompto smiles, and snuggles in close. Noct’s half dozing off again, when Prompto’s lips find his throat again. It’s instinct, to tip his head back, to sigh when the kisses become more urgent, insistent, with the occasional bit of wet suction and scrape of teeth over his skin. Noct’s shorts are starting to get tight, and there’s familiar warmth building in his belly.

 

Prompto slips a hand between them, slow and careful, and brushes it over the growing bulge in Noct’s shorts.

 

Fuck.

 

“Prom,” Noct says, and he _hates_ that he’s saying it, that he’s reaching down and drawing Prompto’s hand away from him. That simple touch is liquid fire in his veins, and it’s got his cock throbbing, twitching closer to full arousal. Noctis absolutely wants to push this. He wants Prompto more than he’s wanted anything, but there’s still that damn _fear,_ too, and Prompto’s drunk, and this isn’t…

 

“Not like this,” Noctis says, before Prompto can get the wrong idea. “I mean… I want this. _You,_ fuck. I… but it’s not just sex, Prom, it’s never been just sex, and I don’t want to mess this up. You’re drunk and I’m a mess and—“

 

Prompto leans in and kisses him, and it’s a rough, messy press of lips against his own. For a moment, Noct’s simply shocked into silence, and he’s still, as Prompto kisses him. Then, slowly, Noctis relaxes again. His hips rock forward against Prompto’s, and they’re _both_ half-hard. They’re both groaning against each other’s lips, too, and his best friend’s forehead presses in when they part.

 

“Yeah, I’m drunk, Noct,” Prompto agrees, breathless, “but I’m not too drunk to know what I’m doing.” There’s a lazy smile fluttering across Prompto’s face, one that’s so goddamn gorgeous, it makes all rational thoughts fall away. It’s crazy, Noctis thinks, about how these moments simply _happen._ It’s not any great moment, nothing terribly exciting happening. It’s simply his best friend, pressed close, the hotel lamp casting soft light over Prompto’s features, the glow of the television in the background. Still, Noct carefully lifts a hand, and he strokes it over Prompto’s freckled cheek, slow, damn near reverent. Somehow, it feels like they’ve come so far.

 

“Go to sleep, Prom,” Noctis says, with a quiet laugh, “and we’ll talk in the morning.”

 

\---

 

Morning comes, and they’re both definitely a little hung over. Somehow, impossibly, Noctis fares worse than Prompto does.

 

It’s noon before he drags himself out of bed, and that’s just to order the room service that Prompto ordered. Noct’s head is throbbing, and his throat is dry, and Prompto is _promising_ that the greasy eggs and hash browns will make his stomach feel better.

 

“I was supposed to tell you not to get the pancakes,” Noctis points out with a groan, as Prompto dumps a little packet of syrup over his mess of chocolate chip pancakes.

 

Prompto sighs mournfully, “and you were asleep. So, my bad self-restraint lost the battle.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes and shovels a bit of eggs in his mouth, and he does feel a little bit better. He’s already checked his phone for the morning. Gladio apparently has decided to send daily photos of Peanut doing increasingly ridiculous cat things as his ‘catsitter check in’, and the first photo is of him doing a squat with the cat perched on his shoulder. Great.

 

There’s another text from his dad, detailing that he’s got meetings all day. It was sent to both of them, and the timestamp on Prompto’s cheerful response is grossly early, for someone who was drunk the night before. Noct’s scrolling through the conversation, when Prompto pipes up.

 

“Oh, your dad wants us to go to some work banquet thing tonight. Said he packed an extra one of your suits for me. Uh… if that’s okay. I kinda already told him we’d go, though.”

 

Noctis sighs, and nods, slowly. It’s expected that they’ll go. It’ll be… weird, with Prompto with him.

 

He wonders if people will think that they’re _dating._

 

“That’s fine,” Noctis says, instead of voicing any of that concern, even if there’s a flutter of panic in his stomach, one that’s making him very quickly lose his appetite, even though he’s barely halfway through his breakfast.

 

The last message is from Luna, and _that,_ at least, perks Noctis up significantly. “Hey, we should try to see Luna while we’re here… you’ll love her, Prom, she’s sweet.”

 

Prompto smiles brightly, and he nods. “Sounds good.”

 

Noctis forces the rest of his breakfast down. Afterwards, he realizes he hadn’t finished his journal for the day before. He’d packed it, because without the counselling sessions, it seems _especially_ important. Prompto’s busy bustling around the hotel room, getting dressed for the day, doing his makeup and fixing his hair, and Noct stares down at the empty page. Does being here in Tenebrae count as a hard thing?

 

Well, he didn’t fuck Prompto, and he’d _really_ wanted to.

 

And his good thought for the day? Prompto had _wanted_ to fuck him.

 

It’s somewhat contradictory, just like the giant mess that is Noct’s entire life.

 

“Noct?” Prompto says, and it snaps Noctis out of his reverie. His best friend’s standing over his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

 

He tries, but Noct’s pretty sure his nonchalant look fails miserably, and there’s a flush spreading up his cheeks. “… nothing,” he says, quickly, shutting the book and leaning over to shove it back in the backpack he’s got resting up against the desk leg. For some reason, there’s even _more_ conflicting feelings going through Noct’s head. Maybe he should tell Prompto about it all, about all the thoughts, about the fact that he doesn’t know _which_ thought is the right one. That’s probably the best way to figure it all out.

 

He doesn’t though, and they get dressed, and head out for an afternoon in Tenebrae.

 

Prompto geeks out for most of the afternoon, as they wander aimlessly. They’ve got this work thing for Noct’s dad, now, so there’s not enough time to do much, so they stay close to the hotel. But Prompto’s got his camera slung over his shoulder, and he gushes and points and sighs happily about the architecture of the buildings, and the view of the mountains when there’s a break in the skyline, and the canals and parks. Tenebrae’s a unique city, with a mishmash of Altissian elements, but none of the foreboding nature of Insomnia. The weather is gorgeous, and Noctis has to admit, it’s… _strange,_ being back here with Prompto.

 

“I can’t even believe you didn’t take pictures last time you were here!” Prompto’s saying. They’ve found the old public library, and it’s ornately decorated, with wide, sweeping steps leading up to an arched front entrance. “Noctis, go pose! Be my model!”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Prom, _no,_ I’ll look really dumb.”

 

“I need a real portfolio, if I wanna ever get anywhere as a photographer!” Prompto whines, and he brandishes his camera somewhat threatening. “C’mon, Noct. Just a few pictures.”

 

Noctis sighs, and he indulges his best friend, going and sitting on the steps in front of the building. They’d stopped at a coffee shop, and he’s still holding a half-full hot chocolate. “I look like a stupid hipster or something,” Noctis grumbles.

 

Prompto’s beaming though, and he climbs the stairs, two at a time, to sit down next to Noctis, his fancy camera held out at an angle in front of them. “Okay, now selfie,” he says.

 

Noct feels particularly brave, and he leans in, pressing his lips right over one of Prompto’s freckled cheeks, as the camera clicks and snaps the photo. It’s funny how last time he was here, he’d been in such inner turmoil over Prompto, over _Luna,_ and now, here they are, taking stupid cheesy photos that almost make them seem like a proper couple. Almost.

 

“Perfect,” Prompto grins, and holds the camera out for Noctis to look at the screen.

 

The image of the two of them looks back at them, and they just look like two college kids who are… what? In love? Yeah. In love.

 

“Perfect,” Noctis echoes back, he almost believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly trekking along...... i know not much is happening, but it's kind of a big deal that noct is opening up to his dad, esp about his not-boyfriend, haha. :p a lot happens next chapter, i promise! 
> 
> sorry for the late update, promptis week ate my soul and all i want to do is write dumb stuff with numi, ok? ): 
> 
> thank you for sticking with me, as always. we really are in the final stretch, things be winding down, and i'm starting to feel a little bit lost and hopeless. what will i do without ludic to write? ahhh i'll find out soon. D:


	35. Finding Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Noctis, believe it or not, we’ve been talking so much lately, I actually don’t have anything to rant on about. What ever happened to that boy who ignored my emails for weeks?”
> 
> Noctis shrugs, and he feels his cheeks flushing. “He’s trying to grow up, I guess.”
> 
> Trying is the key word.

Noctis used to think that life was easy. He’d been so convinced that things simply were or weren’t, and there wasn’t all this in-between stuff. It’d been one hell of a naïve outlook, of course, and he’s starting to realize that sometimes – most times – emotions and feelings aren’t entirely rational.

 

He’s having one of these moments, one of these internal dilemmas, a silent meltdown, as he stands in front of the full-length mirror in the fancy bathroom of their hotel room. His dad dropped off the suits on his way in from his meetings, and he’d looked exhausted. Noctis knows, of course, that his dad’s only gonna have an hour or so to himself, and then it’s back to this stupid fancy banquet that they’re being dragged to.

 

He doesn’t want his dad to go alone, because Noct feels _guilty_ that they’ve tagged along to have fun while his dad works.

 

But staring back at himself, his suit all perfectly pressed and fancy, fiddling with the cuffs and shrugging his shoulders back to make himself seem taller and prouder, Noctis _really_ doesn’t know how he feels about this.

 

The bathroom door is half-open, and Prompto peeks his head in. “How do I look, Noct?”

 

Noctis drags his eyes away from the mirror in front of him, and turns his attention to his best friend. Prompto shuffles in, and he’s wearing one of Noct’s suits, and he looks _good._ More than good, really. They’ve been friends for ages, of course, and they’d been awkwardly dateless together at prom (a whole other story there, really) but somehow, now that they’re _this,_ it seems totally different. It seems acceptable to admire just how nice Prompto looks. It’s Noct’s suit, yeah, so the tailoring is just a little bit off. Prompto’s a slightly different build than Noct, wider in some places, narrower in others, but they’re both slender, and almost the same height, and so it _works._

 

“… good,” Noctis confesses, realizing that he hasn’t spoken, that he’s simply been admiring the way the tailored suit jacket emphasizes Prompto’s waist, the curve of his hips, or the way that the bright blue tie brings out the colour in his best friend’s eyes. Prompto’s hair is side-swept, and his cheeks are a little flushed, but he saunters in to stand beside Noctis, nodding slowly.

 

“I swear, this is way nicer than anything I own,” Prompto admits, and he leans forward, reaching for the makeup he’s already unpacked. Prompto’s always been more organized than Noctis, after all – which isn’t necessarily saying much – and it kinda feels like he’d packed the entire apartment. Noct watches in silence as his best friend does his makeup, though he frowns a little as Prompto works to contour his face and cover up the freckles.

 

“I like them, y’know,” Noctis says, quietly, tipping his head to the side. “… the freckles. They’re really… _you.”_

 

Prompto flushes, lifting his eyes away from his work. “That a suggestion that I should leave ‘em?”

 

Noctis shrugs, and tries to sound nonchalant, but his heart’s doing that thing again where it’s trying to explode out of his chest, and his palms are going all sweaty, and he really just wants to _kiss_ his best friend, even though he’s terrified of this damn banquet they’re going to, _together._ “Just my opinion. You should do what you want to, Prom.”

 

Prompto nods, slowly, satisfied by that answer. He finishes his makeup, but Noctis smiles a little, because the freckles are still visible, if more faintly now. He likes them a lot, and his fingers itch to touch. Prompto’s left his hair mostly down, too, still side-swept.

 

“Can I do your hair and makeup too?” Prompto asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice, as he looks Noctis over. “I mean, my foundation doesn’t quite match, your skin is so goddamn _pale_ Noct, but I can at least fix your hair…”

 

Noctis flushes, as Prompto steps closer, his fingers carefully brushing over the front of his suit jacket. It feels like a very _domestic_ thing to do. It’s something that a couple would do. And he’s somehow, surprisingly, okay with it. Noct’s never been good at putting that much effort into his appearance, after all, and he trusts Prompto. “Yeah,” he agrees.

 

They’re running a couple minutes late when Prompto finishes. Noct’s hair is all side-swept and gracefully mussed in a way that looks both stylish and effortless, and he has to pause to admire his best friend’s work. Prompto really _is_ good at this.

 

“C’mon,” Noctis says, looking away from his reflection, an image of himself that isn’t _quite_ the same as usual. Prompto hasn’t even worked that much magic, since most of his products don’t match Noct’s complexion, but the image of himself is almost a _mask,_ and it seems to give him some sort of courage. Okay, maybe he understands, a little bit, why Prompto puts so much effort into appearance. “We’re gonna be late.”

 

Prompto smiles though, and they both look good, _feel good,_ as they leave the hotel room. Noct’s dad went ahead of them, but he texted them the address, and it’s at a fancy conference center several blocks away. It’s just far enough that they call for a ride, standing outside the hotel in the night air while they wait.

 

Noct’s stomach starts doing that jumping thing when their fingers brush, as they wait outside. It’s nice, being able to fully appreciate the Tenebrae weather. The cold isn’t quite as intrusive, and it’s kinda nice outside, the sky overhead dark, past the tall buildings. Noctis cranes his neck back and crosses his arms over his chest and they’re silent, but it’s a comfortable one.

 

The nerves kick in full-force at the banquet, though. Noctis doesn’t like these damn events very much at all, and he hasn’t decided yet if having Prompto around is making it better or worse. It’s better, in the sense that Noctis knows he isn’t alone, and that his best friend has his back. It makes it easier to ignore the important people, all people he doesn’t know, and doesn’t really care to know. They beeline right to the snack table and load up little plates and get some fancy wine that tastes terrible, and at least the two of them can find a corner and duck their heads down and ignore the world for a bit.

 

Of course, the downside is that they probably very distinctly look like a _couple,_ and now Noctis is stuck in a place where he doesn’t know how to introduce his best friend. It’s somewhat expected of him – at least in Noct’s mind – that he’ll do his best to try and smile and nod and make polite conversation with people. It’s all things Noctis hates, of course.

 

As always, when he’s involved in _any_ sort of thing involving his dad’s work, Noct’s already mentally killing himself and debating switching majors and really regretting the whole ‘agreeing to intern’ thing.

 

“Dude,” Prompto mumbles, after some stranger recognizes them – well, recognizes Noctis at least – and  comes up and starts talking to Noctis like they’re old family friends. “I am _so_ outta my element here, Noct. I dunno anybody.”

 

“You think I do?” Noctis points out, with a shake of his head. He’s nursing his alcohol, mostly because getting drunk _here_ of all places is probably a terrible idea. Prompto has the same idea, at least, because they’re both sipping at the wine somewhat cautiously. “I don’t know any of these people. Honestly, I don’t think my dad does, either. He’s just better at pretending.”

 

Prompto sighs, and picks at some food off his plate. He’s eating more than usual, too, all stress eating that Noct’s used to. Noctis, on the other hand, is barely touching his own plate. It’s a bit silly, how opposite they are, in that regard. It works though.

 

“This is gonna be your fate, huh? When you take over someday,” Prompto teases, and he keeps his voice light, as he nudges into Noct’s shoulder.

 

Noctis groans. He doesn’t wanna think about that. He’s still not sure if he’ll ever really be able to follow in his dad’s footsteps, and in this moment, he doesn’t particularly want to. “Guess so,” he agrees, a bit dully, “just another reason to do something else with my life.”

 

Prompto looks like he’s going to say something, but instead, he picks up a fancy little pastry on the edge of his plate, and shoves it into his mouth. “Food’s good, at least.”

 

Noctis is relieved when he finally spots his dad, because at least his father being around makes it feel much less awkward, like they’re just lurking in a corner and trying to avoid people… never mind that they _are_ lurking in a corner, keeping to themselves.

 

“I half didn’t expect you to show up,” Noct’s dad says, as he waves and makes his way over to them – being stopped a couple of times on the way to make idle chitchat with some random person. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

 

Noctis shrugs, and he doesn’t quite meet his father’s eyes with that. His father keeps saying all these things, like he doesn’t need to feel _obligated,_ but Noctis isn’t quite so sure of that. He realizes, quite abruptly, that he’s leaning into Prompto, that they are pressed _quite_ close, and he shuffles a little in place, adjusting his weight so it’s not quite so obvious.

 

“You wanted us to,” Noctis points out, with a light little smile.

 

“I want you to have _fun,”_ his dad replies, “not look like you’re being tortured.”

 

Prompto laughs awkwardly, and takes a sip of his wine, “that obvious, huh? I’ve never been to a fancy banquet… thing. Not really sure what the point of it is.”

 

Noct’s dad is dressed immaculately, as usual. Noctis is well aware of the price tag on his dad’s suit, all perfectly tailored, giving him an image of power, even if he’s shorter than many of the men in the room, and a slender build, just like Noctis himself is. When Noctis closes his eyes, when he tries to imagine himself in this position, carrying all that weight and power the way his dad does… well, it’s an impossible thought.

 

Noct’s father laughs, “not super obvious. I’m simply _very_ good at reading my son.”

 

“Yeah?” Noctis asks, tipping his head, “what’s that supposed to mean, dad?”

 

Noctis meets his dad’s gaze, and the way his eyes cut into him, it’s always a bit startling. It has Noctis lowering his, looking down at the floor, and he’s doing his best not to flush.

 

“It means you’d much rather be anywhere than here,” his father says, simply. “You two don’t need to stick around. You made an appearance. Let me steal you for a few minutes, though? There’s a few people I want you to meet, good business connections.”

 

“I—” Noctis doesn’t know what to think. His dad isn’t wrong. He’d much rather be back in their hotel room, or hell, just messing around and exploring the city, like they had earlier. Noct’s grateful that he’s dressed the way he is, and that he’d let Prompto work some magic, because he feels _a bit_ more confident, but it’s still… well. This isn’t exactly Noct’s place.

 

“Prom—” Noctis starts to say, because he doesn’t want to leave his best friend behind, but he’s also concerned about how it’ll look, and all these people? They can’t be _that_ open-minded. But, Prompto waves him off. “Dude. Go. I’ll be okay over here. Might get me another glass of wine.”

 

Noct’s father frowns, “oh, I didn’t mean to split you two up. Prompto, you’re welcome, too.”

 

Fuck, Noctis is pretty sure the expression on his face gives him away, too, because in that moment, just for an instant, there’s a spike of pure _panic._ It’s stupid, and it’s irrational. Prompto’s his best friend, and Noct’s well aware that even if his dad knows exactly what’s going on here – and he’s sure his dad does – he isn’t about to out them in the middle of a business party. And they’re just best friends. It can’t be that obvious, right?

 

Still, there’s that horrible _fear_ that someone will know, that someone will see them, and say something.

 

“It’s fine,” Noctis says, quickly. He pushes all that aside. He _has_ to, because this, somehow, is important, that he learns to face all this stuff. It’s not going to get easier. It’s only going to get harder. “C’mon, Prom. Maybe you’ll meet some cranky old asshole who wants to invest in your future photography business.”

 

Noct’s father laughs at that. “Cranky old asshole? Is that what I am? Prompto, my boy, if that’s _serious_ talk, I’d certainly be interested in helping you there…”

 

“It was a _joke,_ dad,” Noctis sighs, but Prompto’s eyes have gone all wide.

 

“Mr Caelum. Er. Regis. You serious?! I mean… Noct’s just messing around,” Prompto looks hopeful though, and okay, so it makes Noctis smile, even though that’s a whole mess of implications, and it’s also suggesting that everything in his life might somehow get all wrapped together. Prompto and his dad are… somehow becoming friends, from this trip? He’s not sure how he feels about it.

 

Noct’s dad shrugs, and his tone is light. “Remind me after this party is over, Prompto, hm? I may look at ease, here, but I certainly don’t enjoy these affairs, either.” Then he’s got one hand on Noct’s shoulder, the other on Prompto’s. “Come on, _both_ of you, let’s go talk to the important people so I don’t have to torture you any longer, as much _fun_ as it is.”

 

After all this, Noctis absolutely doesn’t remember a thing about the people he met. He spends most of it in a sort of daze, trying to work out just how far away from Prompto he should stand, or what kind of noncommittal variation of “yeah, this is my best friend, Prompto…” to say. He wonders if they look… well, too _that way,_ with the hair and the makeup. He hopes they don’t. And Noctis hates himself a little bit for being so concerned about it.

 

Prompto’s good at talking to people. He always has been. It’s a damn good thing he is, too, because Noctis knows how many issues Prompto had to work through to get to this point. He’s also painfully aware of how anxious Prompto can get.

 

Right now, as they’re – well, Noct’s dad, primarily - talking to some grumpy old dude (CEO of some technology company that Noct’s dad is trying to partner with for some project or another – Noctis doesn’t care about the details), Noct’s well aware of how Prompto’s fingers are itching, pulling at the sleeve of the suit coat he’s wearing. He notices how the toe of Prompto’s shoe scuffs against the floor, though his eyes are bright and focused. The smile, though? Prompto’s smile is bright, but it’s… not quite sincere. Outwardly, Prompto looks calm and collected and _happy,_ but inwardly, Noctis knows he’s about as close to a meltdown as he is. The grumpy old dude keeps giving them _looks,_ too, ones that Noctis thinks are something bordering on disapproval.

 

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Noctis,” Mr. So-and-So says, extending a hand, and Noctis shakes it politely. Inwardly, he’s hoping this is the last person he has to talk to. “You and your _friend_ enjoy the party, hm?”

 

There’s an emphasis on the word that makes Noctis frown, and pause, and… fuck.

 

It was probably nothing, but he swears, the lingering look they get, combined with the words, and the one, and… _fuck,_ Noct’s already insecure and confused about all of this, and he’s half convinced it’s _really_ obvious what’s going on.

 

“We will, thank you sir!” Prompto pipes up, quickly, and he nudges Noctis, when Noct is silent, his head ducking down to stare at the floor. Suddenly, this is the absolute last place Noct wants to be. He wants to be back in the hotel room, curled under the blankets, eyes shut and blocking out the world. Or, hell, he wishes they’d stayed home, and that he could close his door and ignore the outside world and play video games.

 

This is a mistake. It’s all a huge mistake.

 

“You look miserable,” Noct’s father comments, after his finishes up his conversation with Mr. So-and-So, and they’re alone again, the three of them. Prompto’s fidgeting again, probably because he’s picking up on how uncomfortable Noctis is. Noct’s doing his best to mask it, but he’s failing miserably, and he knows it. He’s all nervous energy, his features drawn tight, his expression tense. No amount of makeup and perfectly swept hair can hide that much.

 

“It’s just,” Noctis sighs, and he doesn’t even know _what_ to say, but his father’s looking at him. In reality, it’s a look that’s concerned. In Noct’s eyes? It’s expectant, waiting for him.

 

“People are gonna get ideas,” Noctis sighs, looking away. He can’t quite meet Prompto’s gaze, and he definitely can’t meet his father’s. “… about. I dunno. Did you see how he looked at us, Prom?”

 

Prompto chews his lip, and Noctis watches out of the corner of his eye. “You want me to go, Noct?” he asks, quietly, and Noctis has a feeling that there’s a lot of weight behind the words. Noct… hell, he’s being drawn back to months earlier, when he’d dismissed Prompto, when he’d told him that they’re _best friends,_ that it’s all they are. They aren’t that anymore, but what exactly _are_ they? And, more importantly, how much of that does Noctis want the world to know?

 

Before Noctis can make a decision, before he can potentially fuck things up all over again, his father speaks. “You two have been bored all evening. Go have fun. Not _too_ much fun, but… a good, healthy amount.” The words are casual, lighthearted, and it makes Noctis feel… well, he’s not sure.

 

He’s grateful that his dad is letting him _run,_ but that’s what he’s doing, isn’t it? He’s running away, again, instead of facing things, and hell, Noctis feels like he’s fucking failing them both. Like he’s made a huge mess of everything. Why is this so hard? He keeps thinking he’s doing okay, but then it all comes crashing back down, and he’s panicking and his heart is pounding in his chest and he wants to run away from the world.

 

“I don’t want to let you down,” Noctis says, quietly.

 

“Noctis,” his father says, and his voice drops to little more than a whisper. Noctis doesn’t want to look at his dad, but there’s two firm, solid hands on his shoulders, and he can’t help but tip his chin up. His father’s grip is solid, _anchoring,_ pulling him out of the depths of his mind and back to the present, and he’s here. Noctis Caelum, dressed in his fancy suit, looking immaculate, thanks to Prompto, with his dad in front of him, ready to impart some wisdom that he sorely needs. And at his side, his best friend’s hovering, and even though Prompto looks nervous as hell, still, he’s _here._

 

“You need to stop thinking that choosing yourself over me is letting me down,” his father says, quietly. “It’s been my job to raise you into an adult capable of making your own decisions. This is _your_ story, Noctis. Not mine. Do what _you_ need to do, right now.”

 

Noctis blinks. His eyes are a little wet around the edges, and he realizes there’s hot tears beginning to form. Fuck. He doesn’t look away from his dad, though. His father looks… _softer,_ maybe, in this moment. Compassionate and understanding, and Noctis thinks, yet again, that maybe he needs to start giving his dad more credit. He keeps telling himself that, but convincing his mind to start working differently, to start processing things in a way that isn’t critical and self-deprecating, it’s not so easy.

 

“… dad,” Noct’s voice is shaky, and he laughs it off, lifts a hand to swipe carefully at the corner of his eyes, though it probably smears some of that ridiculous makeup Prompto’s got on his face. “I… _thanks.”_

 

Noct’s father nods, and then he turns his gaze to Prompto. “Keep my idiot son out of trouble, Prom?”

 

Prom.

 

Noctis doesn’t miss the nickname, and he doesn’t think Prompto does, either, by the way his expression shifts, from uncertainty, into a bright smile. “I’ll do my best! C’mon, Noct, let’s go get some real food.”

 

Noctis nods, a little dumbly. Prompto moves in to tug him away, but before he can, Noctis, on pure instinct, ducks in to wrap his arms around his father. They don’t hug much, still, though they’re getting _better,_ and in public? It’s kinda embarrassing, being a mostly-grown adult hugging his dad when there’s all these fancy people around. It makes him feel just a little bit better, though.

 

“I’m proud of you, Noct,” his father mumbles in his ear, as they part, and Noctis feels a surge of embarrassment, but… _more_ than that, he feels warm. Happy. His dad _knows,_ he has to, and he’s got understanding in his eyes, and hell. Noctis doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

 

So, he simply reaches for Prompto’s hand, and twines their fingers together, and Mr. So-and-So can stare at them all he fucking wants. Prompto, for a moment, seems like he’s going to tug away, but instead, he squeezes Noct’s hand, and meets Noct’s shy, tentative smile with a bright one of his own.

 

“Let’s go,” Noctis agrees, and their shoulders bump as they weave their way through the crowd and out of the fancy banquet area.

 

\---

 

When they get outside, Noctis finally relaxes some. It’s nice, to lift a hand and to loosen the tie he’s wearing. Prompto unbuttons the top few buttons of the fancy dress shirt, and their hands stay tangled as they wander around the city aimlessly. Tenebrae isn’t too busy, this time of night, and that’s a relief. It’s dark, and nobody’s really paying them any attention, which is nice, because Noct’s happy, holding on to Prompto like he’s something of a lifeline. In a way, he is.

 

“I’m not super hungry,” Noctis confesses, as they pass any number of little cafes they could duck into.

 

“Me either,” Prompto admits, with a laugh. “I kinda binged on the snacks.”

 

Noctis laughs a little, too. “We totally should’ve snuck more wine.”

 

Prompto nods his agreement, and gives his hand another little squeeze.

 

Noctis realizes, as they walk down the block, that they’re passing the café he met Luna at, his last time here. It’s closed by now, the windows dark and the sign swung around, but it’s definitely the same little place. He remembers their little adventure, wandering around, and how conflicted he’d been back then. Yeah, Noctis is still conflicted. He’s barely on the path he needs to be on at this point – and he’s still wondering, is this even the right path? It’s going to be a long journey.

 

“Hey,” Noct says, suddenly, pausing. The street around them is empty. Now that they’ve moved on past the café, they’re entering the fancy shopping district. The restaurants and bars are a few blocks away, and now it’s all retail, fancy upscale boutiques that have long closed for the day. Noct recognizes this, though. It’s vague, shrouded in darkness, but he remembers this is the way Luna took him, when he was last here. Noctis remembers, of course, that she’d mentioned he should’ve invited Prompto. And Noctis had been agreeing, silently, thinking about how much he wished his best friend was here. Luna had wanted to meet him, and suddenly, that’s a _good_ idea. “We should see what Luna’s up to. She’d love to meet you.”

 

Prompto shrugs, “I mean, I _do_ look pretty great, Noct. It’d make a good first impression.”

 

Noctis pulls out his phone. He hates making calls, and Prompto knows that, cuz he’s rolling his eyes and reaching over to take the phone out of his hands as soon as it’s unlocked. “I’ll call. Since you get weird and shy around girls.”

 

Noctis gives Prompto a playful nudge, “hey! It’s not that _at all!”_ but Prompto’s sticking out his tongue and when it’s just the two of them, like this, it feels so goddamn natural. It’s such a shift, a transition from the awkward uncertainty into something _easy._ It’d be nice, really, if Noctis could just always feel this way.

 

\---

 

It isn’t quite late enough that Luna’s not willing to meet them. They settle on a diner that’s open twenty-four hours that’s by the flat that Luna lives in. Noctis hadn’t made it to this part of Tenebrae on the last trip, but it reminds him somewhat of Insomnia. It’s near the university, and so it’s a similar atmosphere to back home. All little hole-in-the-wall hipster places, bars that are open late, coffee shops, and the streets are busier with people celebrating the break between semesters. Noct is vaguely aware that they look horribly out of place in their suits, and they probably should’ve changed before coming here, but it’s too late for that, now. Noct’s already got his suit jacket unbuttoned and hanging over an arm, and he’s grateful for the weather, because it’s not quite so cold that he’s suffering for it.

 

They’re the first ones here, this time, and they get a rounded booth by the window. For someone who wasn’t hungry before, Noct’s stomach has certainly changed its mind, and he’s staring down the menu, already picking what is essentially the unhealthiest thing he can find.

 

Prompto’s in the seat facing the door, and when it swings open with a chime, he grins and waves. Noct looks over his shoulder, and he smiles, because there’s Luna. She’s just as beautiful as she’d been last time he saw her, though Noctis thinks she looks rather tired. Her eyes light up though, when she spots them.

 

“Hey, Luna,” Noctis says, and there’s an awkward moment of shuffling where he’s not sure if he should get up, but her arms are out, and so Noctis scoots out of the booth and lets her throw her arms around him. Prompto’s next, and Noct can’t quite hold back a fond smile when Luna holds his best friend at arm’s length, looking him over.

 

“We _finally_ meet, huh? Took long enough,” Luna smiles, though, going in for a hug.

 

Prompto’s smiling, though, and he seems to relax some. “Can blame Noct for that. He _totally_ forgot to bring me along last time.”

 

“So I heard. Don’t worry, he got shit from me for it,” Luna says, lightly.

 

Noctis groans, because that’s an understatement. Everyone gave him hell for that.

 

They settle back into the rounded, cushioned booth, and Noctis finds himself in the middle, Prompto on his one side, and Luna on the other. It’s spacious, but Prompto stays close, and, hell, Noctis doesn’t quite mind it.

 

“What’s new, Luna?” Noctis asks, slowly, after they put in their orders. Noct’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be ordering soda and a giant plate of nachos this late at night, but well, he half lives on poptarts and pizza at this point, anyway, so like that really matters. Prompto groans and grumbles that he shouldn’t be eating _anything,_ but, as Luna is quick to point out, they’re on vacation. So, here they are.

 

“Not much,” Luna admits, with a laugh, “Noctis, believe it or not, we’ve been talking so much lately, I actually don’t have anything to rant on about. What ever happened to that boy who ignored my emails for weeks?”

 

Noctis shrugs, and he feels his cheeks flushing. “He’s trying to grow up, I guess.”

 

Trying is the key word.

 

“He’s doing a good job,” Prompto pipes up, at Noct’s side. “At least, I think so.”

 

It’s cheesy and dumb, and Noct’s grateful that their server pops back in with drinks. He sips at his soda, and the caffeine helps. Fingers playing with the straw, Noctis tips his head, and looks at Luna. “No double date?”

 

Luna laughs a little. “Mm, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

 

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Luna, y’know—” Noctis starts to say, but Prompto rolls his eyes, nudging his elbow into Noct’s rips and interrupting.

 

“She’s trying to say that she didn’t want to invite him, Noct, you _really_ suck at talking to girls,” Prompto points out, sighing.

 

Oh. _Oh._ Noct is pretty sure he’s flushing again, and he offers up his best apologetic smile. He ignores the fact that Prompto is absolutely _terrible_ at talking to girls, too. Or, well, so he’d thought, since their whole journey began with that specific problem. Looking back, though, apart from Aranea – and she’s terrifying all on her own – Prompto’s made a few female friends. Hell, he’d gone on those maybe-dates with that one girl for a while. Maybe they’re both growing up, together, and figuring shit out.

 

“Sorry,” Noctis says, quickly, “… you wanna talk about it?”

 

Luna shakes her head, “you two make everything _so_ dramatic. He’s working, Prompto. I mean, _yes,_ things aren’t… straightforward, but are they ever?”

 

Noctis knows the answer to that, of course. It’s never straightforward.

 

“So, wait,” Prompto seems to catch up with the conversation, and he grins, leaning in to take a sip of Noct’s soda – after stubbornly getting a water and a black iced coffee of his own – ignoring the _look_ Noctis gives him. “Double date. This is a date, Noctis?”

 

“If you want it to be,” Noctis replies, and he’s very pleased with how noncommittal and casual he keeps his voice. His stomach is suddenly doing a series of flips, because they’re putting words to it now. Date. That implies that they’re dating, that _this_ is very close to being official, and hell, he wants it to be. He’s crazy about Prompto, and this is his life now.

 

Luna laughs again. “That’s awkward for me. I’m quite the third wheel.”

 

Noctis shakes his head, “Luna, I’m pretty sure you’re half the reason that we’re here right now.”

 

“At _least_ half,” Prompto chimes in. He goes for another sip of Noct’s soda, and Noctis bats him away, grumbling and shifting his glass away, though it’s mostly playful banter, and he doesn’t _really_ care that Prompto’s stealing his drink. It’s absolutely ridiculous. “Noct came back totally changed after his trip from Tenebrae.”

 

“Not totally,” Noctis argues, with a shake of his head. “Just… with a new perspective.”

 

“A new perspective is a good way of putting it,” Luna agrees, with a laugh. The food comes out, and she raises her glass up off the table, eyes bright as she looks at Noctis, and then Prompto, and it’s totally obvious how close the two are leaning, their shoulders bumping. “To new things, then.”

 

It’s lame, and it’s cliché, but that’s their lives, isn’t it? Stupid moments, all connected and tied together in ways that might not be obvious at the time, but later, looking back, they define a part of who they are, and who they’ve become. And right now, in this one, Noct’s happy.

 

Later, after they pick at the food, Noctis curls an arm around Prompto’s waist, and Prompto leans in, his cheek resting on Noct’s shoulder. Their suits are wrinkled and messy, and they’re definitely going to need to be dry cleaned before they can be worn again. Noctis is half-hoping he won’t have to dress up again for the rest of the trip, but knowing his dad, something will come up.

 

“Noct, you got nacho cheese on your sleeve,” Prompto points out, lazily, reaching across Noct’s lap to poke at his other arm. There’s a small drip of cheese marring the crisp fabric of his dress shirt.

 

Noctis groans, and shakes his head, “dunno how that even happened.”

 

“Cuz you’re messy,” Prompto teases, with a laugh.

 

Luna’s watching them, a smile playing across her lips. “You two are a cute couple, you know that? I saw the photos you posted online, too, Prompto, while you two were out exploring. You look happy.”

 

Noct’s stomach tries to leap into his throat, and his breath catches for a moment. He knew Prompto had posted them online. Prompto had told him he was going to, and he’d texted a few, with silly captions and lots of heart emojis. Luna saying that they looked _happy,_ though… and hell. More than that. Luna saying that they’re a _couple._

 

The implications of that are heavy.

 

Prompto laughs a little, and he buries his face in Noct’s neck, and Noctis gets the distinct feeling that his best friend is embarrassed. More than that, though, he’s not _objecting._ Prompto isn’t saying much of anything, really.

 

“I am happy,” Noctis agrees, after a moment’s hesitation, and the smile he gives Luna is shy, a little tentative, but sincere. There’s a shift, as Prompto draws away, lifting his head up.

 

“Me too,” Prompto agrees, and Noctis feels like he’s going to burst with the rush of emotion he’s feeling. All things considered, they've come pretty far. And here, in a dumb little restaurant in the middle of Tenebrae, Noctis doesn't care what stuffy old rich dudes think. He doesn't care what anyone thinks, because right now, this little moment is the center of his universe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more... quietly screaming... one more. <3 i'm happy with how this is wrapping up, and how noct's journey is coming together. quiet sighs. thanks for reading. <3 see you at the finish line. 
> 
> twitter @thatdest; tumblr @destatree.


	36. Peaks and Valleys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has never been good at talking. All of his deep and meaningful conversations with his best friend have been a bit of a mess, the two of them stumbling through it. There’s a million things he could say, and a whole bunch of subtle, nuanced ways to bring it up. But it’s Noctis, and so he simply blurts out, “what is this? Where is it going?”

It’s far later than they expected, when they get back to the hotel. Luna had invited them back to her place, but Noct’s a little exhausted, and he’s eager to retreat back to their room. He loves Luna, and he’s glad to see her, but this night has taken a lot out of him. This whole trip is a whirlwind. It’s got its highs, and they are _really_ good highs, way better than any of the dumb brownies they’ve still got stashed in the freezer. The lows, though?

 

Well, they’re hard to deal with, and even though the good outweighs the bad by far, it doesn’t mean it isn’t laying heavily on Noct’s shoulders.

 

“Dibs on the shower,” Prompto says, as Noctis swipes the key and they tumble into the hotel room. Noctis makes a point of sighing heavily, but in all honesty, he doesn’t care much about that. As soon as the bathroom door clicks shut behind Prompto, Noct’s discarding his wrinkled suit coat on the bed. The rest of his clothes follow, and he changes into a pair of loose sleep pants and a t-shirt. Being back in the hotel is _nice._ He’s tired, and it’s been a long day, and the freshly made bed feels good when Noctis flops back against it.

 

He can hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, as Prompto gets cleaned up. Noctis is tired _,_ but his mind is buzzing from the events of the day. A lot happened. Luna called them a _couple._ Is that what they are? Noct’s made it clear that he wants to try _this_ again, for real, but he isn’t really sure what this is. It hasn’t gone defined yet, and does he want to?

 

It’s something to think about it.

 

Climbing off the bed, Noctis fumbles through his backpack for his silly little notebook he’s been using as a makeshift therapist until he can see his counselor again. She’d told him to just focus on one thought a day, after all, though right now, he has a whole lot of thoughts.

 

He’s in love with Prompto. There’s no denying that anymore.

 

In all the dumb games Prompto likes to play, love seems so much easier. Maybe it’s unrealistic, but in Noct’s mind, it was always going to be this all-encompassing happiness, intense and passionate and it’s _all_ that matters. In reality? The fact that he’s got these feelings for his best friend makes some things so much harder.

 

Noctis knows his dad has already accepted it, but… hell, he can’t help but wonder if his dad’s just being supportive, and if secretly, deep down, he’s upset about it. Those _looks_ Noctis had sworn they were getting at the banquet, too. Not everyone’s going to be supportive. It’s… well, it’s a mess.

 

He wonders if Prompto’s parents know. He wonders if Prompto’s _uncle,_ the one Noct’s heard bits and pieces about over the years, knows. What do they think? Are they destined to live a life of secrecy? Noctis frowns, and chews his lip, because Prompto had been absolutely clear on that subject.

 

His pen taps the page, as Noctis sits at the little hotel room desk. Maybe he should just write it all down, so that he remembers to talk to Monica about it.

 

Instead, he writes down, ‘ _I think I’m ready to tell people, but I’m still scared.’_

 

And somehow, the words on the page, they make it _real,_ and both a little less and a little more terrifying, all at the same time. Noctis tips his head, and he stares, and he’s got half a mind to scratch the words off the page until it’s a mess of blurry ink-stains over the pages.

 

The bathroom door clicks open though, the sound of the fan running full-speed filling the room, and Noctis looks over his shoulder.

 

Prompto’s hair is damp at the ends, but mostly dried off, with a towel thrown over his shoulders. He’s shirtless, a pair of pants hanging low on his hips, and his skin is all fresh and red from the heat, freckles smattering his shoulders and cheeks. Noct is pretty sure he’s staring, and he ducks his head down, quickly.

 

“Shower’s yours if you want it,” Prompto says with a lazy grin. “Left you a clean towel.”

 

Noctis nods, but he makes no effort to get up out of the chair. When Prompto sits down on his own bed, Noct slowly swivels the chair around, so that they’re facing each other. “Hey. Prom.”

 

“Yeah?” Prompto’s voice is casual enough, but he tips his head. “Noct, that tone of voice always freaks me out.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, and if he was close enough, he’d give Prompto a playful punch. Instead, he leans forward, arms draped over his knees. They should talk. It’s been a while coming now, and Prompto’s been… well, he’s been patient with Noctis, with all his fucking slew of issues. They can’t keep skirting the matter, though.

 

Noctis has never been good at talking. All of his deep and meaningful conversations with his best friend have been a bit of a mess, the two of them stumbling through it. There’s a million things he could say, and a whole bunch of subtle, nuanced ways to bring it up. But it’s Noctis, and so he simply blurts out, “what is this? Where is it going?”

 

Prompto blinks. He scoots to the edge of the bed, and he leans forward, mimicking Noct’s posture, arms draped over his knees, head tipped to the side. “Didn’t we kinda-sorta talk about this already, Noctis?”

 

They have, of course, but… well, it’s been a vague, let’s try _this,_ without really specifying what this is, or what the end goal is. Maybe Noctis is overcomplicating things. Okay, so he’s most definitely overthinking it, because whatever they’re doing, it doesn’t have to have a definition. All that matters is that they’re here, and they’re happy, and that neither of them is denying that it is definitely something. The specifics aren’t too important.

 

Of course, Noctis is young, and dumb. And so is Prompto, though he’s better at keeping that hidden away, better at pretending that he’s got it together. Despite Prompto’s words, though, his fingers are fidgeting in his lap, and his eyes are clouded with just the faintest hint of uncertainty.

 

“Luna called us a couple,” Noctis says, blundering through his words just as messily as always. He flushes bright, but Prompto doesn’t look away, and neither does Noctis, for once. The room isn’t silent – the fan’s still buzzing, clearing the humidity out of the bathroom, and the air conditioner is running – but it still feels heavy, hanging between them.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, and his lips twitch upward, betraying his feelings with the flash of a hesitant smile, even though he’s trying really hard to stay neutral. “She did, huh?”

 

Noctis doesn’t know what to say. He thinks, maybe, he should know by now. All of this stuff should have gotten easier, right? He still wants to duck under the covers and hide from the world, too. The old Noctis would’ve shut the conversation down and retreated to the safety of his room. He has an out here. He could jump up and say he needs a shower and Prompto won’t push the subject. And hell, Noctis has come all this way, made it through a few months that seemed to creep by like a slow romance novel, and yet he _still_ has that itch. He hates it. He feels like he hasn’t made it anywhere.

 

Of course, the self-awareness _is_ the growth process.

 

Noctis doesn’t run, as much as he wants to. He sighs, and he leans back in his chair. “… so, you wanna then? Be a couple. Like… officially?”

 

It’s about as dumb and unromantic as humanly possible, and it’s utterly _Noctis,_ of course. Prompto stares at him for a moment, and Noctis feels the heat rising in his cheeks. It’s a dumb question, begging for the bitter shame of rejection, and he’s about to turn the chair away again and mutter an apology.

 

“How about,” Prompto says, with a quiet laugh, “you give me a kiss and then you ask again?”

 

Noctis freezes. Is that a yes? He’s pretty sure that’s a yes.

 

And hell, he’s been wanting to kiss Prompto all damn night. So Noct gets out of the chair, and they’re both somehow grinning widely, laughing a little as Prompto reaches for his hands and draws him down onto the bed next to him.

 

They’ve had a lot of kisses by now, and they’ve even gotten good at it. This one’s slow, and exploring, but it’s not shy, not tentative like their earlier kisses. Prompto curls an arm around Noct’s neck, and their lips bump together. Sometimes, Noctis still doesn’t know what to do with his hands – especially lately, since they’ve been careful to take it slow – but this time, he wraps an arm around Prompto’s waist with no hesitance. Prompto’s skin is heated, still clinging to the last bits of dampness from the shower, and he feels _good._ It’s good to touch like this. The kiss deepens, gentle swipes of tongue, but neither of them are particularly aggressive or dominating. It’s just… _nice,_ and Noctis feels a little bit like he’s at home, like this is exactly where he should be, and this is just what he should be doing.

 

They’re both a little red-faced when they part. Noct’s chest is heaving and his heart is thumping, but he’s not nervous or scared, for once. Prompto stays close, and Noct’s free hand lifts, gently brushing through his best friend’s hair. It’s damp and a bit tangled still, but Prompto smiles, turning his head and pressing a kiss right into Noct’s palm.

 

The gesture, somehow, has Noctis feeling like he’s going to burst, he’s so fucking stupidly _happy_ with his dumb best friend.

 

“So,” and this time, Noct’s words aren’t quite such a mess, and he’s not afraid, at least not in the moment, “you want to make this official?”

 

“Official’s a pretty… official word, Noct,” Prompto replies, but the smile is answer enough. “Yeah, though. If you… think you’re ready?”

 

Noctis doesn’t know if he’ll ever be _ready,_ but is anyone ever ready for the things that they’re facing? It’s a matter of adapting, of coming to terms with the fact that he’s figuring out who he is, and that’s okay.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Noctis admits, and he ducks back in, steals another kiss, messy and awkward with their noses bumping from the sudden movement. “I’ll try not to be such a mess. When we have to tell people, I mean.”

 

Prompto draws back a little. Noctis wonders just what his best friend is thinking, as their eyes meet, and it’s hard to know for sure. He’s all restless still, and probably craving some nicotine. Hell, Noct’s surprised he hasn’t messed up again. He’s _proud,_ but… well, Noct’s own journey has been full of slides backwards, followed by mad scrambles forward to make up lost ground.

 

“Noct, we can be _official_ without the whole world knowing. I mean… yeah, _eventually,_ I want the world to know,” Prompto says, and Noct’s pretty sure that Prompto’s said some variation of these words before, too. Eventually, maybe, it will sink in, but that’s going to be another step forward, one that he probably won’t take today. “I just want you to be sure about this.”

 

“I’m sure,” Noctis says, and he’s sure about a lot of things. He’s sure that he wants to be here, with Prompto. They’re best friends and… what? Boyfriends now? That’s a crazy thought, but it has him smiling.

 

Prompto nods, and he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls Noct in for another kiss, and this time, it’s one of those dangerous kisses. It’s all open-mouthed and a bit sloppy, tongues pressing together. Noctis has a feeling he knows where this is going, but he isn’t doing anything to stop it. Hell, he’s letting Prompto push him back onto the bed. Noctis sprawls lazily on his back, and Prompto’s a warm weight settling over him. It’s a lot happening, and Noctis lets himself get lost in it, instead of obsessing, instead of _stopping_ it, like he has every other time so far. Prompto’s skin is hot, when Noctis curls his arm around again, fingers stroking gently into the dip at the base of his spine. His lips are hotter, and his tongue works deftly into Noct’s mouth. They’re both making quiet sounds, and fuck, Noct’s pretty sure he moans when Prompto’s knee slips between his thigh and presses delicious friction against his cock.

 

“Prom,” Noct mumbles, when they part. Prompto’s lips are slick and kiss-swollen, and Noctis is pretty sure his are too. Prompto’s lips work down over his jaw, and that feels nice, too, little trails of fire slowly spreading all through him. He’s getting hard, and Noct wants to keep going, but he can’t quite quell that little jolt of fear that’s leaping in his belly, clouding his senses just a little. “Prom, hang on.”

 

Prompto draws away – and Noct can’t help it, he groans at the loss of contact.

 

“You wanna stop?” Prompto asks, in a voice that’s a little rough around the edges with desire. It’s got need knotting in Noct’s belly, he _sounds_ good, looks good, _fuck,_ how is Prompto so goddamn good at everything? It’s not even fair.

 

Noctis absolutely doesn’t want to stop. He scoots back a little, though, away from Prompto, sliding up the bed until his head hits the headboard. He reaches back to prop the pillow up, and when he looks back at Prompto, his best friend is perched across the bed still, breathing heavily, watching him with lidded eyes. Fuck.

 

Noctis swallows, and his body’s screaming at him to _go_ for it.

 

“I don’t want to fuck this up,” Noct says, quickly, and he’s trying _really_ hard not to think with his dick, here. It’s pretty hard though, given how clouded his thoughts currently are. He’s trying not to stare, but he appreciates every part of Prompto, all the faded stretch marks, the freckles, the way his pants hang low, showing off the v-line of his pelvis, and _fuck,_ there’s a bulge in his pants, the definitive sign that they’re both equally worked up here, just from a bit of lazy kissing.

 

Prompto tips his head to the side, and his bangs fall lazily over his eyes. He laughs, a bit shyly, lifting a hand to brush his hair back. “Noct. It got weird last time because we weren’t talking about it. Unless you plan on pretending this never happened, it’s not gonna be weird.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Noctis counters, “you’re better at talking about this stuff than I am.”

 

Prompto’s smile is lazy, almost easy though, and he leans a little closer, “Noct, you’re the one doing _all_ the talking right now, you know that, right?”

 

There’s a moment of silence, when Noctis realizes that _yeah,_ Prompto’s right. He’s the one who keeps stopping this, claiming that they need to _talk,_ but do they really? They’re both sober. They’re both committing to… _something,_ a real relationship, a solid attempt at making this work. And hell, they’re both horny as hell, half-hard in their pants and staring each other down like they want to devour the other whole. It’s, well, a really fucking ridiculous situation to be in.

 

So, naturally, Noct says the first thing that comes to mind, and he blurts out, “I packed lube.”

 

Prompto gives him a _look,_ and then he bursts into laughter. “Kinda assumed a lot there, huh Noct?” and Noctis opens his mouth to protest that hey, it’d been a _just in case_ thing, but Prompto shuts him up with a swift, “uh, I kinda brought some too.”

 

Noctis can’t help it, he’s laughing too, and suddenly it’s _easy_ again, all the weird awkwardness melting away between them, even as Prompto’s climbing off the bed and rummaging through his suitcase – open on the floor between the bed and the wall – to toss the little tube, and a condom, onto the bed. Noct’s heart is hammering in his chest, but for all the _good_ reasons for once, none of the bad. Prompto crawls back onto the bed, and it’s awkward, and fumbling, but they find each other.

 

Their lips press together again, and Noctis gets an arm around Prompto’s waist, tugging him in, until they’re both on their sides, facing each other, kissing and touching, slow and curious. Noctis _appreciates_ the sounds Prompto makes in the back of his throat when his fingers trace over the curve of his spine. Prompto’s touching, too, and it’s little jolts of fire when his fingers trace over his sternum, slow and light down his chest, splaying over the rapid-fire beating of his heart.

 

“How you wanna do this?” Prompto asks, slow, when Noct’s fingers dip into the band of his pants.

 

Noctis only pauses for a moment. “You’re still better at this than I am,” he admits, and he’s shifting his weight, reaching over Prompto’s body to grab the tube, pressing it into his best friend’s fingers.

 

“Think you’re just lazy,” Prompto laughs, but he’s working the cap off, and Noct’s kicking his pants off and settling back against the mountain of pillows. Noctis rolls his eyes, because _yeah,_ he is, but really, he trusts Prompto. It comes down to trust, and he lifts his hips, his erection resting heavily on his belly. He sighs, at Prompto’s fingers tracing down his cock, and then down and back, between his thighs.

 

It’s been a while, and Noctis knows it’s gonna hurt. They’ve only done this a couple of times, after all, and it’d been a fumbling mess. They aren’t much better now. There’s that strange, aching, stretching feeling, as a finger works into him, and Noctis shifts under the intrusion. He curls a hand loosely around his own cock to distract from the pain, but it’s all second to focusing on the fact that Prompto’s touching him.

 

“Hey,” Prompto mumbles, his lips finding Noct’s shoulder as he moves over him, crooking his fingers, working him open, “remember, Noct, you gotta—”

 

“Relax,” Noctis interrupts, with a laugh, followed by a sharp gasp, when Prompto’s fingers curve deep and it spears him open and it _hurts_ but there’s a jolt of sensation that goes right to his aching erection, heavy against his belly, “yeah, Prom, I _know,_ I’m trying, but you’ve kinda got your fingers up my ass.”

 

Prompto laughs, and his breath tickles Noct’s shoulder, making him squirm, “you really gotta put it that way, Noct? Could at least _try_ to make it sexy.”

 

Noctis laughs, too, though it makes him clench his muscles tighter around the invading fingers, and there’s a sharp little jolt of pain, one that he simply has to groan and ride out. “Never said it wasn’t sexy. Just hurts.”

 

“Sorry,” Prompto tries that thing with crooking his fingers again against his prostate, and the pain is momentarily replaced with another throb of pleasure, one that makes Noct’s cock twitch, “practice makes perfect, y’know.”

 

“That your way of telling me you wanna keep fucking me?” Noct’s rocking his hips up into Prompto’s fingers now though, and that deep, full-bodied ache is fading away, simply being replaced with the sensation of being full. It’s uncomfortable, still, but it’s not entirely unpleasant, and Noctis remembers that it _was_ really good last time, even if it left him limping in the morning.

 

“Duh,” Prompto replies, and when he works a third finger in, it doesn’t quite fit all the way in at first. It hurts, and Noctis bites his lip, Prompto backing off and working him through it, stretching him open until he can get it in. His erection’s flagging a little, softening against his belly, but Prompto’s hard as hell against his thigh, and that’s fucking hot.

 

“You’ve gotten better at that,” Noctis groans, when Prompto’s fingers finally withdraw. It’s a bit less fumbling than before. Of course, his thighs are still slicky and sloppy with too much lube, and Noct’s wincing a little as he shifts, his ass already open and sore, but it’s not as bad as last time. Or at least, it doesn’t feel like it is.

 

Prompto laughs, as he finally wiggles out of his pants, erection springing free, “dude, one of these days we’re gonna figure out what the hell we’re doing.”

 

“Maybe,” Noctis agrees, and he’s sitting up, eyes flashing with sudden inspiration, as he gives Prompto a playful shove, pushing him down onto the bed.

 

Prompto’s eyes widen, and then narrow, as Noctis crawls over him, straddling his hips. Honestly, Noct doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, not at all, but he’s willing to give it a try. He reaches for the lube, and slicks his fingers up, reaching between them to stroke rough and heavy over Prompto’s cock. Prompto groans a little, and he’s full and throbbing between his fingers. Noct remembers _this_ part of their little earlier phase, at least, and he twists his wrist just right, enough to draw out a desperate little gasp.

 

“You gonna gripe at me if I skip the condom?” Noctis shudders, rocking his hips down, feeling the head of Prompto’s cock rub over his ass. He’s not really sure how it’s gonna fit, or if he’ll be able to figure this out at all, but hell, he’s eager and willing to try, and his own erection is hardening against his belly again.

 

“It’ll be messy,” Prompto says in response, and a hand’s gripping at Noct’s hip. The other hand’s reaching back, positioning his erection right, and they both groan at the feeling of it. “Don’t bitch to me about it after.”

 

Noctis laughs, and a hand steadies against Prompto’s belly, and then he’s sliding back, rocking himself down on the blunt head of Prompto’s cock. The first sink of his hips isn’t quite right, and the tip of Prompto’s erection nudges against the cheek of his ass instead. They both shudder, and Noctis flushes, but he lifts up again. The second time, it doesn’t quite go right, either, but on the third, Prompto grips his hips, helps him move, and then the tip is splitting Noctis open.

 

It hurts, and maybe being on top like this wasn’t the best idea, because Noct’s thighs are straining as he tries to lower himself slow and steady, to keep from sinking too fast and _hurting._ Prompto’s head is tipped back, and he’s breathing heavily, rubbing at Noct’s hips, encouraging. Noct can feel the tremble of Prompto’s belly under his fingertips, as he traces faded stretchmarks, as he tries to simply _breathe_ and take it.

 

“It always feels really weird,” Noct mumbles, when he finally sinks down, when Prompto’s buried all the way inside. He feels full, too full, and the ache is full-bodied, working all through him. But hell, Prompto’s all flushed and trembling, and it feels good, too _,_ in a really weird way.

 

“You’re weird,” Prompto manages to reply, and they smile at each other, all shy and stupid. Then, Noct’s bracing himself with a hand on Prompto’s stomach, lifting up, thighs straining as he rises onto his knees, and drops back down, and it’s still a bit painful, but it’s getting better _,_ too.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis groans, and Prompto mumbles his agreement.

 

Noct’s not very good at keeping up a steady rhythm. He can’t quite figure out how to work his hips just right. Prompto keeps lifting up, but Noct’s motions aren’t even, and they can’t quite find the right pace to meet halfway. His thighs hurt, and his back aches, even when he leans back instead, his hand moving from Prompto’s belly to grip at his thighs. His cock’s half-hard again, though, and Prompto’s definitely enjoying it, all labored breathing and twitching heat inside.

 

Honestly, the whole thing is so _off_ that if they weren’t both inexperienced and dumb and horribly sexually repressed from their weird not-breakup and subsequent cockblocking makeout sessions, Prompto probably wouldn’t be getting off. As it is, though, all it takes is Noct’s hips jerking roughly on his cock, and then suddenly, Prompto’s arching off the bed, his fingers gripping rough at Noct’s hips as the wet heat floods into him. He comes with a harsh moan, and it makes Noct’s own cock twitch appreciatively, even if he’s definitely not there.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto groans, when Noct’s motions still. He leans forward, presses a kiss into his best friend’s shoulder, and there’s a wince and a flood of warmth as his softening cock slips out. Yeah. Prompto wasn’t lying. It’s definitely messy and disgusting. There’s a long moment though, of them simply pressed together, Noct’s half-hard cock trapped between their bellies, but then Prompto comes back into himself, and he’s flipping them, rolling Noctis onto his back and reaching between them to curl his fingers around his cock.

 

Noctis hisses his approval, and Prompto’s lips find his throat, pressing wet kisses there, dipping down to suck at the junction of neck and shoulder while he works him with smooth, steady strokes of his fingers. The lube’s gotten everywhere, and it’s slicking Prompto’s fingers, and it’s only a few minutes before Noct’s keening out, rocking his hips forward. Prompto’s name’s on his lips when he twitches and spurts between their bellies, and then there’s _silence,_ except for the background hotel noise, and their heavy breathing.

 

“We still really suck at sex,” Noctis mumbles, when he comes back to himself, when the world stops spinning and his mind stops floating. Prompto laughs, breathless, in agreement, and reaches for his discarded pants to wipe his sticky, semen-coated fingers off.

 

“Let’s switch to the other bed,” Prompto replies, but he’s making no effort to move, instead slowly rolling onto his side, curling an arm around Noct’s waist.

 

“In a minute,” Noct agrees, as he’s tipping his head, nudging it into Prompto’s shoulder. The whole ‘two bed’ dilemma, it seems, has been quite satisfactorily resolved. “Guess this is the sex bed now, huh?”

 

Prompto laughs, and it’s infectious, and soon they both are. “I don’t think that’s what your dad intended when he got us a double room.” His arm tightens around Noct though, and Noctis feels safe, and warm, and hell, he’s fucking happy. Yeah, he’s sore as hell, and the future is still… well, difficult, and uncertain, and they’re still just as dumb and inexperienced as they were when all this happened. But hell, it seems like maybe a bit of the tough stuff is over.

 

“My dad’s a total troll, Prom. I bet this is exactly what he intended.”

 

“I don’t wanna think about your dad knowing that we’re having sex,” Prompto shoots back, with a groan. He tips his head into a pillow, but his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

 

“Me either,” Noctis agrees to that much, at least. Fuck, he doesn’t want to ever have _that_ talk, though he’s gonna have to get comfortable with the idea of his dad knowing that they’re _together._ One step at a time, though. “Hey… can I say something dumb?”

 

“You’re just asking that _now?”_ Prompto grins, but his expression shifts into something more serious, when their eyes meet, when Noctis fidgets a little, shifting his thighs and wincing at the responding ache. “Noct. Yeah. You can tell me anything.”

 

“That book,” Noctis tips his head, gesturing vaguely at the desk, where his book’s still lying open. “It’s a dumb journal. My therapist tells me to write down my thoughts, and things I did, and…” he flushes a little, realizing how dumb he sounds, but he tries to keep his voice casual, and damnit, Noctis keeps talking. “Maybe you’d wanna read it.”

 

Prompto’s breath hitches. His arm tightens around Noct’s waist, pulling him just a little closer. “… you want me to?”

 

“I… yeah,” Noctis admits, and it’s embarrassing as hell. “I mean. You don’t _have_ to. It was just an idea, don’t feel like you have to—”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, instantly, cutting him off. “I mean. If you want to share, Noct. You don’t have to, though. It’s okay to keep things to yourself, if that’s what you wanna do…”

 

Noctis shakes his head, and flushes, but damnit, he’s done with secrets. He’s done with pushing Prompto away, with locking people out, with living in his damn head. It’s caused them a world of pain. And Noctis knows, of course, that it isn’t this simple. He’s outright in love with Prompto, and he’s not _saying_ the words. He can’t say them. They’re written in the book though, and maybe Prompto will get the hint. Maybe it’ll give Noctis the courage to keep pushing forward.

 

And they aren’t perfect. They still suck at talking, and they’re still struggling to try and figure out where this is going, yeah.

 

But hey, they’re boyfriends now, and that’s a whole lot more than weird best friends with benefits, right? Progress.

 

\---

 

Noctis hopes that it’s not noticeable, the way he’s wincing and limping ever so slightly as they make their way down to breakfast. He’s awake _way_ earlier than he should be. They’d eventually switched beds, and he’d been pleased to wake up to Prompto’s back pressed against his chest. His best friend – _boyfriend –_ had been awake first, of course, scrolling through his phone, but he’d stayed in bed, and somehow, that’s warm and comforting.

 

So now they’re dressed, and freshly showered, and meeting Noct’s dad for breakfast before he has to go to his meetings. They haven’t quite figured out what they’re doing today, yet, but Prompto’s got a list, and Noct’s pretty sure he’ll just indulge his best friend and let him pick. They’re just going to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, which is perfectly fine with Noctis, because _walking_ is still a little bit of a challenge. He’ll adjust, but damn.

 

Their fingers are twined, and Noctis spots his dad, already at a table, when they enter through the fancy glass doors into the attached restaurant. He grins, and waves, and tugs Prompto over.

 

Noct’s father gives him a _look,_ but says nothing about the way their hands are latched together. There’s a moment of hesitance, and Noctis _almost_ pulls his hand away, but Prompto squeezes, reassuring and silent, and Noctis simply squeezes back.

 

“Morning, dad,” Noctis says, as he settles down into his chair. Prompto’s chair nudges closer to his as his best friend sits, and they probably look like a couple of lovesick idiots. Noctis kinda feels like one. He picks up the menu with the hand that’s not tangled in Prompto’s, even though he really doesn’t have to.

 

“Good morning, Noctis, Prompto,” his father replies lazily. “And don’t you dare order the cereal, son, I’m not paying fifteen dollars for you to eat Froot Loops.”

 

“Cruel world,” Noctis groans, as he scans the menu. “Dad, it comes with a muffin and assorted fruit, too. It’s not like you’re paying _just_ for cereal.”

 

“You won’t eat the fruit,” his father points out, sagely, sipping at his coffee. Noctis grumbles, because that is an accurate statement.

 

“I mean, I’ll eat his fruit,” Prompto says brightly, and he’s all cheerful and smiles and wide-eyes. It’s most definitely a sort of lingering, morning-after ‘I just had sex’ afterglow, and it’s painfully obvious.

  
Noct’s dad takes another sip of his coffee, and lifts an eyebrow. “I take it you two had a good night, then?”

 

Noctis groans.

 

He’s not ready for _this,_ damnit, and the way his shoulders slump and he sinks down in his chair totally gives him away.

 

“Don’t worry,” his father adds, smiling faintly at the way Noct’s ducking down, and the way Prompto’s cheeks turn bright red. “Keep your activities to one bed. There’s a reason I got you two, you know.”

 

“ _Dad,”_ Noctis says, in a thoroughly horrified voice. Thank fucking god, the world is good to him for once, because their server swoops in to take their order. Noctis orders his usual hot chocolate (with extra whipped cream), and, just to spite his awful father, he totally orders the cereal. Fifteen dollar Froot Loops will taste delicious.

 

Noct’s father looks incredibly pleased with himself, and he doesn’t say anything _more_ on that front. There’s a lot of idle chit-chat through breakfast, mostly Noct’s dad asking them where they’re going and giving suggestions for the day, and some vague dinner plans being made. Though, after their meal is over (Prompto picking at Noct’s fruit, as promised), as they’re getting ready to leave, he pauses, and leans in close.

 

“You two always have my support, you know that, right?”

 

Noctis flushes, and maybe, just maybe, he’s finally learned to forgive his dad for the past, and to simply look forward. Maybe.

 

“I know, dad,” he replies, and he does know. At his side, Prompto smiles, and leans in, and their shoulders bump.

 

Everything’s going to be okay. It’s a chapter of Noct’s life coming to a close, a tentative one, full of optimism. Whether or not there’s a happy ending is impossible to tell but so far? Looking good. And right now, he’s happy with this resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... well. that's it. the "official" end. stay tuned for short little bonus epilogue  & final thoughts. <3 i'm posting them both at once though!


	37. Epilogue - One Month Later

It’s been one whirlwind of a month, and somehow, classes have started up again.

 

Prompto’s just gotten home from the photography studio, and Noct’s dad is done work early. The downside of his dad and his boyfriend being _really good friends_ is that Prompto, apparently, ratted out Noct’s bad eating habits. So, he’d finished up his first week of classes and come home, ready to relax, only to be greeted with a text from his dad: _im bringing u groceries, be there in 15?_

Noctis had grumbled and groaned, but, well, it’s a Thursday afternoon, and what else does he have to do? He asks Prompto, and _of course,_ Prompto had already known. It’s a conspiracy against him.

 

He’s got therapy tomorrow. There had been a brief bit of time, in between Tenebrae and now, when Noctis had thought maybe he doesn’t need to see Monica anymore. He’d told Prompto as much, and he’d gotten a punch to the shoulder and a, “well I guess I’ll just go outside and smoke, then,” and Prompto has a point, really. The depression hasn’t gone away. It’s more manageable, but Prompto’s right. Damnit, Prompto’s _always_ right. So Noctis isn’t looking forward to it, because he knows a lot has happened, and it’s gonna be exhausting, but damnit, he’ll stick with it.

 

Prompto’s broken down and had a cigarette a time or two, but he’s getting there, too. They’re both sticking with it.

 

It’s another step forward.

 

So Noct’s dad shows up at their apartment, carrying two giant gift bags, neither of which are groceries. Noctis eyes it skeptically.

 

“I got you something,” Noct’s father says, with a smile, as he makes himself comfortable, settling down on their couch after kicking off his shoes. “Two things, actually.” He hands over the first bag, and Noctis groans when he opens it. Prompto’s wandered over to watch, amusement dancing in his eyes.

 

“A crock pot,” Noctis sighs. “Dad, why do you think I’m going to cook?”  


“Any brainless idiot can use a crockpot, Noctis,” his father explains, “and Prompto tells me you’re eating empty carbs. I’m sure he can teach you how to use it.”

 

“It’s _really easy,”_ Prompto says with a grin. “Promise.”

 

Noctis grumbles, and sighs, and eyes the other bag with newfound horror. “And what’s that?”

 

His father’s smile widens. “This one is for both of you.”

 

Noctis doesn’t like the sound of that.

 

He rips into the bag, and he groans when he pulls out two sweaters, the soft fabric spilling over his lap. He groans even _more_ when he lifts one up, unfolding it and holding it at arm’s length. It’s a baggy, comfortable looking sweater, light with a dark hood and dark stripes down the arms. That bit isn’t offensive. There’s writing across the chest of the hoodie though, the words ‘He’s my best friend’ scrawled over the front, with an arrow pointing to the right.

 

“That one’s Prompto’s,” his father says cheerfully.

 

“Do I wanna know what mine says?” Noctis groans, but he balls up the shirt and tosses it playfully at Prompto’s head, then goes for the other one. Might as well get it over quickly and hope that his death is fast and painless. This is _humiliating._

 

The second sweater is identical to the first in colour and design, except this one has the words ‘It’s more than that!’ with arrows pointing up. Oh. Fantastic.

 

“Dad, I’m not wearing this,” Noctis groans, letting the sweater fall back into his lap.

 

“You totally are,” Prompto points out, and when Noctis looks at his best friend, he _sighs,_ because Prompto’s already got the sweater tugged over his head. It’s tousled his hair and he looks a bit silly in the baggy sweater, but… _goddamnit._

 

This is his life now.

 

“I hate you both,” Noctis groans.

 

“No, you don’t,” his father replies, lightly. “I got you two groceries. Go unload the car for me?”

 

Noctis sighs. And, because he’s a masochist, he pauses to tug the sweater over his head. “Whatever. C’mon, Prom. Dad, there’s sodas or whatever in the fridge, if you want one.”

 

Like all incredibly lazy people, Noct and Prompto manage to find a way to load up their arms with all the groceries, so that they don’t have to make a double trip. It’s late winter, by now, and the wind is something horrible, bitter and biting through them, so that they’re both shivering in the short time it takes to get everything out of the trunk. Noct has to balance the groceries precariously to click the lock on the car keys, but they slowly amble back inside and wobble their way upstairs. The back deck would’ve made more sense, but it’s slippery, covered in ice, and Noct doesn’t feel like dropping groceries on his face.

 

When they get back inside, and carry the groceries down the hall, Noctis pauses in the doorway to the kitchen. He freezes in horror.

 

“Oh _shit.”_

 

Noct’s father is standing in front of the fridge. He’s apparently been in the freezer, because he’s got a wax-paper wrapped brownie in his hand, the last one from their adventure all those months ago, and he’s chewing on it thoughtfully, most of the brownie already devoured.

 

“This is one of Ignis’s, isn’t it?” his dad says, tipping his head when he notices Noctis. “I do miss having that boy around, he’s _such_ a good baker. I’m afraid the freezer ruined the taste somewhat, though, it’s a bit _off.”_

 

Prompto’s eyes go wide as he steps into the kitchen next to Noctis, and he looks like he can’t decide if he wants to burst into laughter or die of mortification. “Uh. I. Um.”

 

“Dad, you might wanna sit down,” Noctis groans, and he takes a step forward to dump the bags of groceries on the kitchen table. It’s going to be one hell of a night. Noctis absolutely didn’t want to spend his evening with his boyfriend and his stoned father.

 

He’s gonna have a hell of a lot to tell his therapist in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER! i set that ending up in the first few chapters and i never thought i'd get here. never in a million years. this is the first fic i've finished in 10 years, wow.
> 
> wow. six months ago today - and it's been exactly six months! - i posted the first chapter, thinking "nobody is gonna wanna read this mess." and look at where we ended up. 
> 
> acknowledgements:
> 
> thank you to notempty for letting me lift her prompto headcanons. thank you to just_peachy for letting me vent and always being the best disney buddy. thank you to numinoceur for drawing the boys in these sweaters, I TOLD YOU I'D WORK IT IN. thank you to r3zuri for throwing the prompt that started it all on the kink meme, and for actually reading it over the six months, lmao.
> 
> thank you to all my regular reviewers, i always smiled when i got your feedback! thank you to everyone who has left a review, sent me a message on tumblr, left me asks, and tweeted at me. you're the reason i kept writing. <3 
> 
> this fic is dedicated to anyone who's ever struggled with depression. i poured a bit of my life and soul into noct's journey. you aren't alone, and i understand it's hard. i got through it, and you can too. do your "one hard thing" a day, and keep going, and it gets better. i promise.


End file.
